THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


'His  blond  hair  disheveled,  his   shoulders  coatless,   Cyril 
emerged." 


[PAGE  47] 


THE 
YELLOW  DOVE 


BY 

GEORGE  GIBBS 


ILLUSTRATED 
BY  THE  AUTHOR 


NEW    YORK 

GROSSET    &    DUNLAP 

PUBLISHERS 


COPTBIOHT,   191*, 

BY  D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 


CONTENTS 


OHAPTEB 

PAGE 

PRELUDE  ..... 

1 

I. 

SHELTERED  PEOPLE  .         .         . 

5 

II. 

THE    UNDERCURRENT        .         . 

.      17 

III. 

:RICE-PAPERS    .... 

31 

IV. 

DANGEROUS   SECRETS        .         . 

.       45 

V. 

THE  PURSUIT  CONTINUES  . 

55 

VI. 

RIZZIO  TAKES  CHARGE      .         » 

.       68 

VII. 

AN  INTRUDER  .... 

83 

VIII. 

96 

IX. 

THE  VIKING'S  TOWER       .         . 

.     108 

X. 

THE  YELLOW    DOVE        .         * 

.     121 

XI. 

VON  STROMBERG       .         .         . 

.     131 

XII. 

HAMMERSLEY  EXPLAINS    .         . 

.     145 

XIII. 

THE  UNWILLING  GUEST    .         . 

.     157 

XIV. 

VON  STROMBERG  CATECHISES    . 

.    172 

XV. 

THE  INQUISITION      .         .         . 

.     188 

XVI. 

THE  GENERAL  PLAYS  TO  WIN  . 

.     206 

XVII. 

LINDBERO         .... 

.     221 

XVIII. 

SUCCESS   ..... 

.     243 

XIX. 

THE  CAVE  ON  THE  THORWALD  . 

.     260 

XX. 

THE  FIGHT  IN  THE  CAVERN 

.     275 

XXI. 

HARE  AND  HOUNDS  .         .         . 

.     289 

XXII. 

FROM  THE  HEIGHTS  .         .         . 

.     306 

XXIII. 

320 

2135751  ' 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

"His  blond  hair   disheveled,  his  shoulders   coatless, 

Cyril  emerged"  .....        Frontispiece 

FACING   PAGE 

"  'Not  that/  he  whispered  hoarsely,  'for  God's  sake — 

not  that'  " 80 

"Her    lips  .  .  .  were    whispering    words    that    she 

hoped  could  follow  him  into  the  distance"   .          .128 

"The  truth,  and  he  becomes  an  honorable  prisoner  of 

war.    Silence,  and  he  is  shot  tomorrow.    Speak"     218 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


PRELUDE 

RIFTS  of  sullen  gray  in  the  dirty  veil  of  vapor 
beyond  the  reaches   of  dunes,  where  the  sea 
in  long  lines  of  white,  like  the  ghostly  hosts 
of  lost  regiments,  clamored  along  the  sand  .  .  . 

A  soughing  wind,  a  shrieking  of  sea-birds,  audible 
in  pauses  between  the  faraway  crackle  of  rifle-fire  and 
the  deep  reverberations  of  artillery — familiar  music 
to  ears  trained  by  long  listening.  A  shrill  scream  of 
flying  shrapnel,  a  distant  crash  and  then  a  tense 
hush  .  .  . 

Silence — nearly,  but  not  quite.  A  sound  so  small 
as  to  be  almost  lost  in  the  echoes  of  the  clamor,  an 
impact  upon  the  air  like  the  tapping  of  the  wings  of 
an  insect  against  one's  ear-drum,  a  persistent  stac- 
cato note  which  no  other  noise  could  still,  borne  with 
curious  distinctness  upon  some  aerial  current  of  the 
fog  bank. 

And  yet  this  tiny  sound  had  a  strange  effect  upon 
the  desolate  scene,  for  in  a  moment,  as  if  they  had 
been  sown  with  dragon's  teeth,  the  sand  dunes  sud- 
denly vomited  forth  armed  men  who  ran  hither  and 
thither,  their  hands  to  their  ears,  peering  aloft  as 
though  trying  to  pierce  the  mystery  of  the  skies. 

"The  blighter!     It's  'im  agayn." 
1 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


"  7m/     'Oo's  'im,  I'd  like  to  arsk?" 

"Stow  yer  jaw,  cawn't  yer  'ear?  Ole  Yaller-belly, 
agayn." 

The  sounds  were  now  clearly  audible  and  to  the 
south  a  series  of  rapid  detonations  shivered  the  air. 

"There  goes  'Johnny  look  in  the  air.'  Cawn't  get 
'im,  though.  'Strewth !  'E's  a  cool  one — *e  is !" 

A  hoarse  order  rang  out  from  the  trenches  behind 
them — and  the  men  ran  for  cover.  The  fog  lifted  a 
little  and  a  shaft  of  light  touched  the  leaden  gray  of 
the  sea  like  the  sheen  on  a  dirty  gun-barrel.  The 
nearer  high-angle  guns  were  speaking  now — fruit- 
lessly, for  the  sounds  seemed  to  come  from  directly 
overhead.  The  fog  lifted  again  and  a  shaft  of  pale 
sunlight  shot  across  the  line  of  entrenchments. 

"There  'e  is,  not  wastin'  no  time — *e  ayn't." 

"Yus.  But  they're  arfter  'im.  There  comes  hyvia- 
shun.  O  WZ>" 

The  expletive  in  a  final  tone  of  disgust  for  the  fog 
had  fallen  again,  completely  obliterating  the  air-craft 
and  its  pursuers. 

"  'Go's  Yaller-belly?"  asked  a  smooth-faced  youth 
who  still  wore  the  sallow  of  London  under  his  coat  of 
windburn. 

"You're    one   of   the   new   lot,   ayn't   yer?      You'll 

know  b y  soon  'oo  Yaller-belly  is,  won't  'e,  Bill? 

Pow!     That's  'im — them  sharp  ones." 

"Garn!"  said  the  one  called  Bill.  " 'E  never  'its 
anythink  but  the  dirt  an'  'e  cawn't  'elp  that." 

"  'Tayn't  'cos  'e  don't  try.  'Ear  'em?  Nice  drop- 
pin's  fer  a  dove,  ayn't  they?" 

"Dove?"  said  the  newcomer. 

"Yus.     Tubs  the  swine  calls  'em " 

"Tawb,  yer  blighter." 

2 


PRELUDE 

"Tub,  I  says.  Whenever  troops  is  movin',  Vs  al- 
ways abaht — jus'  drops  dahn  hinformal-like,  out  o' 
nowhere " 

"And  cawn't  they  catch  'im?" 

"Catch  'im — ?  Ely  me — not  they!  A  thousand 
'orse-power,  they  say  'e  'as — flies  circles  round  hour 
hair  squad  like  they  was  a  lot  o'  bloomink  captivatin' 
balloons." 

"But  the  'igh-hangles ?" 

"Moves  too  fast — 'ere  an'  gone  agayn,  afore  you 
can  fill  yer  cutty.  They  do  say  'as  'ow  when  Yaller- 
belly  comes,  there's  sure  to  be  big  doin's  along  the 
front." 

"Aye,"  said  Bill.  "When  we  was  dahn  at  Copen- 
hagen  " 

"Compayn,  gran'pop " 

"Aw!  Wot's  the  hodds?  Dahn  at  Copenhagen,  'e 
flew  abaht  same  as  'e's  doin'  now." 

Bill  paused. 

"And  what  happened?" 

"You'll  'ave  to  arsk  Sir  John  abaht  that,  me  son," 
finished  the  other  dryly. 

"We  was  drillin'  rear-guard  actions,  wasn't  we, 
Bill?" 

"Aye.  We  was  drilled,  right,  left,  an'  a  bit  in  the 
middle."  Bill  rose  and  spat  down  the  wind.  "Tyke  it 
from  me,"  he  finished,  with  a  glance  aloft  through  the 
mist,  "there'll  be  somethin'  happen  between  'ere  an* 
Wipers  afore  the  week  is  hout " 

"Aye— the  'earse,  Bill." 

"Wot  'earse?"  asked  the  newcomer  again. 

"The  larst  time  'e  kyme — down  Wipers-way.  There 
was  a  lull  in  the  firin'  an'  'tween  the  lines  o'  trenches 
where  the  dead  Dutchies  was,  comes  a  'earse — a  real 

3 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


'earse  with  black  'orses,  plumes  an'  all.  We  thought 
'twas  some  general  they'd  come  to  fetch  and  hup  we 
stands  hout  o'  the  trenches,  comp'ny  after  comp'ny, 
caps  off,  all  respec'ful-like.  This  'ere  'earse  comes 
along  slow  an'  mournful,  black  curt'ins  an'  all  flappin' 
in  the  wind  an'  six  of  the  blighters  a-marchin'  heads 
down  behind  it.  They  wheels  up  abreast  of  our 
comp'ny  near  a  mound  o'  earth  and  stops,  an'  while 

we  was  lookin' — the  front  side  of  that  there  b y 

Vee-Hicle  drops  out  an'  a  machine-gun  begins  slippin' 
it  into  us  pretty  as  you  please.  'Earse — that's  wot 
it  was — a  'earse!  an'  it  jolly  well  made  a  funeral  out 
o'  B  Company." 

"Gawd!"  said  the  newcomer.  "And  Yaller- 
belly ?" 

"I  ayn't  sayin'  nothin'  abaht  'im.  You  wait,  that's 
all." 

The  sounds  of  firing  rose  and  fell  again.  The  fog 
thickened  and  the  last  crashes  of  the  high-angle  guns 
echoed  out  to  sea,  but  the  rush  of  the  flying  planes 
continued.  Three  machines  there  were  by  the  sound 
of  them,  but  one  grew  ever  more  distinct  until  the 
sounds  of  the  three  were  merged  into  one.  Closer  it 
came,  until  like  the  blast  of  a  storm  down  a  mountain- 
side, a  huge  shadow  fell  across  the  dunes  and  was  gone 
amid  a  scattering  of  futile  shots  into  the  fog  which 
might  as  well  have  been  aimed  at  the  moon. 

Bill,  the  prescient,  straightened  and  peered  through 
the  fog  toward  the  flying  plane. 

"A  'earse,"  he  muttered.  "That's  wot  it  was — a 
'earse." 


CHAPTER    I 

SHELTERED   PEOPLE 

ADY  Betty  Heathcote  had  a  reputation  in  which 
she  took  pride  for  giving  successful  dinners 
in  a  neighborhood  where  successful  dinners 
were  a  rule  rather  than  an  exception.  Her  prescrip- 
tion was  simple  and  consisted  solely  in  compounding 
her  social  elements  by  strenuous  mixing.  She  had  a 
faculty  for  discovering  cubs  with  incipient  manes  and 
saw  them  safely  grown  without  mishap.  At  her  house 
in  Park  Lane,  politics,  art,  literature,  and  science 
rubbed  elbows.  Here  pictures  had  been  born,  plays 
had  had  their  real  premieres,  novels  had  been  devised, 
and  poems  without  number,  not  a  few  of  which  were 
indited  to  My  Lady  Betty's  eyebrow,  here  first  saw 
the  light  of  day. 

For  all  her  dynamic  energy  in  a  variety  of  causes, 
most  of  them  wise,  all  of  them  altruistic,  Lady  Betty 
had  the  rare  faculty  of  knowing  when  to  be  restful. 
Tired  Cabinet  ministers,  overworked  lords  of  the  Ad- 
miralty, leaders  in  all  parties,  knew  that  in  Park  Lane 
there  would  be  no  questions  asked  which  it  would  not 
be  possible  to  answer,  that  there  was  always  an  ex- 
cellent dinner  to  be  had  without  frills,  a  lounge  in 
a  quiet  room,  or,  indeed,  a  pair  of  pyjamas  and  a 
bed  if  necessary. 

But  since  the  desperate  character  of  the  war  with 
Germany  had  been  driven  home  into  the  hearts  of  the 

5 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


people  of  London,  a  change  had  taken  place  in  the 
complexion  of  many  private  entertainments  and  the 
same  serious  air  which  was  to  be  noted  in  the  mien 
of  well-informed  people  of  all  classes  upon  the  street 
was  reflected  in  the  faces  of  her  guests.  Her  scientists 
were  engrossed  with  utilitarian  problems.  Her  liter- 
ary men  were  sending  vivid  word-pictures  of  ruined 
Rheims  and  Louvain  to  their  brothers  across  the  At- 
lantic, and  her  Cabinet  ministers  conversed  less  than 
usual,  addressing  themselves  with  a  greater  particu- 
larity to  her  roasts  or  her  spare  bedrooms.  Torn 
between  many  duties,  as  patroness  to  bazaars,  as  head 
of  a  variety  of  sewing  guilds,  as  president  of  the  new 
association  for  the  training  and  equipment  of  nurses, 
Lady  Heathcote  herself  showed  signs  of  the  wear  and 
tear  of  an  extraordinary  situation,  but  she  managed 
to  meet  it  squarely  by  using  every  ounce  of  her  abund- 
ant energy  and  every  faculty  of  her  resourceful  mind. 
Many  secrets  were  hers,  both  political  and  depart- 
mental, but  she  kept  them  nobly,  aware  that  she  lived 
in  parlous  times,  when  an  unconsidered  word  might  do 
a  damage  irreparable.  Agents  of  the  enemy,  she  knew, 
had  been  discovered  in  every  walk  of  life,  and  while 
she  lived  in  London's  innermost  circle,  she  knew  that 
even  her  own  house  might  not  have  been  immune  from 
visitors  whose  secret  motives  were  open  to  question. 
It  was,  therefore,  with  the  desire  to  reassure  herself 
as  to  the  unadulterated  loyalty  of  her  intimates  that 
she  had  carefully  scrutinized  her  dinner  lists,  elimi- 
nating all  uncertain  quantities  through  whom  or  by 
whom  the  unreserved  character  of  the  conversation 
across  her  board  might  in  any  way  be  jeopardized.  So 
it  was  that  tonight's  dinner-table  had  something  of 
the  complexion  of  a  family,  party,  in  which  John  Riz- 

6 


zio,  the  bright  particular  star  in  London's  firmament 
of  Art,  was  to  lend  his  effulgence.  John  Rizzio,  dean 
of  collectors,  whose  wonderful  house  in  Berkely  Square 
rivaled  the  British  Museum  and  the  Wallace  Collec- 
tion combined,  an  Italian  by  birth,  an  Englishman  by 
adoption,  who  because  of  his  public  benefactions  had 
been  offered  a  knighthood  and  had  refused  it;  John 
Rizzio,  who  had  been  an  intimate  of  King  Edward,  a 
friend  of  Cabinet  ministers,  who  knew  as  much  about 
the  inner  workings  of  the  Government  as  majesty  it- 
self. Long  a  member  of  Lady  Heathcote's  circle,  it 
had  been  her  custom  to  give  him  a  dinner  on  the  an- 
niversary of  the  day  of  the  acquisition  of  the  most 
famous  picture  in  his  collection,  "The  Conningsby 
Venus,"  which  had,  before  the  death  of  the  old  Earl, 
been  the  aim  of  collectors  throughout  the  world. 

As  usual  the  selection  of  her  guests  had  been  left  to 
Rizzio,  whose  variety  of  taste  in  friendships  could 
have  been  no  better  shown  than  in  the  company  which 
now  graced  Lady  Heathcote's  table.  The  Earl  and 
Countess  of  Kipshaven,  the  one  artistic,  the  other  lit- 
erary; their  daughter  the  Honorable  Jacqueline  Mor- 
ley;  Captain  Byfield,  a  retired  cavalry  officer  now  on 
special  duty  at  the  War  Office ;  Lady  Joyliffe,  who  had 
lost  her  Earl  at  Mons,  an  interesting  widow,  the  bud 
of  whose  new  affections  was  already  emerging  from  her 
weeds ;  John  Sandys,  under-secretary  for  foreign  af- 
fairs, the  object  of  those  affections;  Miss  Doris  Ma- 
ther, daughter  of  the  American  cotton  king,  who  was 
known  for  doing  unusual  things,  not  the  least  of  which 
was  her  recent  refusal  of  the  hand  of  John  Rizzio,  one 
of  London's  catches,  and  the  acceptance  of  that  of  the 
Honorable  Cyril  Hammersley,  the  last  to  be  mentioned 
member  of  this  distinguished  company,  gentleman 

7 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


sportsman  and  man  about  town,  who  as  everybody 
knew  would  never  set  the  world  afire. 

No  one  knew  how  this  miracle  had  happened,  for 
Doris  Mather's  brains  were  above  the  ordinary;  she 
had  a  discriminating  taste  in  books  and  a  knowledge 
of  pictures,  and  just  before  dinner,  upstairs  in  a  burst 
of  confidence  she  had  given  her  surprised  hostess  an 
idea  of  what  a  man  should  be. 

"He  should  be  clever,  Betty,"  she  sighed,  "a  worker, 
a  dreamer  of  great  dreams,  a  firebrand  in  every  good 
cause,  a  patriot  willing  to  fight  to  the  last  drop  of  his 
blood " 

Lady  Betty's  laughter  disconcerted  her  and  she 
paused. 

"And  that  is  why  you  chose  the  Honorable 
Cyril?" 

Miss  Mather  compressed  her  lips  and  frowned  at 
her  image  in  the  mirror. 

"Don't  be  nasty,  Betty.  I  couldn't  marry  a  man 
as  old  as  John  Rizzio." 

Lady  Betty  only  laughed  again. 

"Forgive  me,  dear,  but  it  really  is  most  curious.  I 
wouldn't  laugh  if  you  hadn't  been  so  careful  to  de- 
scribe to  me  all  the  virtues  that  Cyril — hasn't." 

Doris  powdered  the  end  of  her  nose  thoughtfully. 

"I  suppose  they're  all  a  myth — men  like  that.  They 
simply  don't  exist — that's  all." 

Lady  Betty  pinned  a  final  jewel  on  her  bodice. 

"I'm  sure  John  Rizzio  is  flattered  at  your  choice. 
Cyril  is  an  old  dear.  But  to  marry !  I'd  as  soon  take 
the  automatic  chess  player.  Why  are  you  going  to 
marry  Cyril,  Doris?"  she  asked. 

A  long  pause  and  more  powder. 

"I'm  not  sure  that  I  am.  I  don't  even  know  why  I 

8 


SHELTERED  PEOPLE 


thought  him  possible.  I  think  it's  the  feeling  of  the 
potter  for  his  clay.  Something  might  be  made  of  him. 
He  seems  so  helpless  somehow.  Men  of  his  sort  always 
are.  I'd  like  to  mother  him.  Besides" — and  she  flashed 
around  on  her  hostess  brightly — "he  does  sit  a  horse 
like  a  centaur." 

"He's  also  an  excellent  shot,  a  good  chauffeur,  a 
tolerable  dancer  and  the  best  bat  in  England,  all  agree- 
able talents  in  a  gentleman  of  fashion  but — er — 

hardly "    Lady  Betty  burst  into  laughter.    "Good 

Lord,  Doris!     Cyril  a  firebrand!" 

Doris  Mather  eyed  her  hostess  reproachfully  and 
moved  toward  the  door  into  the  hallway. 

"Come,  Betty,"  she  said  with  some  dignity,  "are 
you  ready  to  go  down?" 

All  of  which  goes  to  show  that  matches  are  not  made 
in  Heaven  and  that  the  motives  of  young  women  in 
making  important  decisions  are  actuated  by  the  most 
unimportant  details.  Hammersley's  good  fortune  was 
still  a  secret  except  to  Miss  Mather's  most  intimate 
friends,  but  the  conviction  was  slowly  growing  in  the 
mind  of  the  girl  that  unless  Cyril  stopped  sitting 
around  in  tweeds  when  everybody  else  was  getting  into 
khaki,  the  engagement  would  never  be  announced.  As 
the  foreign  situation  had  grown  more  serious  she  had 
seen  other  men  who  weighed  less  than  Cyril  throw  off 
the  boredom  of  their  London  habits  and  go  soldiering 
into  France.  But  the  desperate  need  of  his  country 
for  able-bodied  men  had  apparently  made  no  impres- 
sion upon  the  placid  mind  of  the  Honorable  Cyril.  It 
was  as  unruffled  as  a  highland  lake  in  mid-August.  He 
had  contributed  liberally  from  his  large  means  to  Lady 
Heathcote's  Ambulance  Fund,  but  his  manner  had  be- 
come, if  anything,  more  bored  than  ever. 
2  9 


Miss  Mather  entered  the  drawing-room  thoughtfully 
with  the  helpless  feeling  of  one  who,  having  made  a 
mistake,  pauses  between  the  alternatives  of  tenacity 
and  recantation.  And  yet  as  soon  as  she  saw  him  a 
little  tremor  of  pleasure  passed  over  her.  In  spite  of 
his  drooping  pose,  his  vacant  stare,  his  obvious  inade- 
quacy she  was  sure  there  was  something  about  Cyril 
Hammersley  that  made  him  beyond  doubt  the  most  dis- 
tinguished-looking person  in  the  room — not  even  ex- 
cepting Rizzio. 

He  came  over  to  her  at  once,  the  monocle  dropping 
from  his  eye. 

"Aw'fly  glad.  Jolly  good  to  see  you,  m'dear.  Hand- 
some no  end." 

He  took  her  hand  and  bent  over  her  fingers.  Such 
a  broad  back  he  had,  such  a  finely  shaped  head,  such 
shoulders,  such  strong  hands  that  were  capable  of  so 
much  but  had  achieved  so  little.  And  were  these  all 
that  she  could  have  seen  in  him?  Reason  told  her  that 
it  was  her  mind  that  demanded  a  mate.  Could  it  be 
that  she  was  in  love  with  a  beautiful  body  ? 

There  was  something  pathetic  in  the  way  he  looked 
at  her.  She  felt  very  sorry  for  him,  but  Betty  Heath- 
cote's  laughter  was  still  ringing  in  her  ears. 

"Thanks,  Cyril,"  she  said  coolly.  "I've  wanted  to 
see  you — tonight — to  tell  you  that  at  last  I've  volun- 
teered with  the  Red  Cross." 

Hammersley  peered  at  her  blankly  and  then  with  a 
contortion  set  his  eyeglass. 

"Red  Cross — you!  Oh,  I  say  now,  Doris,  that's 
goin'  it  rather  thick  on  a  chap " 

"It's  true.  Father's  fitting  out  an  ambulance  corps 
and  has  promised  to  let  me  go." 

John  Rizzio,  tall,  urbane,  dark  and  cynical,  who  had 
10 


SHELTERED  PEOPLE 


joined  them,  heard  her  last  words  and  broke  into  a 
shrug. 

"It's  the  khaki,  Hammersley.  The  women  will  fol- 
low it  to  the  ends  of  the  earth.  Broadcloth  and  tweeds 
are  not  the  fashion."  He  ran  his  arm  through  Ham- 
mersley's.  "There's  nothing  for  you  and  me  but  to 
volunteer." 

The  Honorable  Cyril  only  stared  at  him  blankly. 

"Haw!"  he  said,  which,  as  Lady  Betty  once  ex- 
pressed it,  was  half  the  note  of  a  jackass. 

Here  the  Kipshavens  arrived  and  their  hostess  sig- 
naled the  advance  upon  the  dinner-table. 

One  of  the  secrets  of  the  success  of  Lady  Heath- 
cote's  dinners  was  the  size  and  shape  of  her  table, 
which  seated  no  more  than  ten  and  was  round.  Her 
centerpieces  were  flat  and  her  candelabra  low  so  that 
any  person  at  the  table  could  see  and  converse  with 
anyone  else.  It  was  thus  possible  delicately  to  remind 
those  who  insisted  on  completely  appropriating  their 
dinner  partners  that  private  matters  could  be  much 
more  safely  discussed  in  the  many  corners  of  the  house 
designed  for  the  purpose.  Doris  sat  between  Rizzio 
and  Byfield,  Hammersley  with  Lady  Joyliffe  just  op- 
posite, and  when  Rizzio  announced  the  American  girl's 
decision  to  go  to  France  as  soon  as  her  training 
was  completed  she  became  the  immediate  center  of  in- 
terest. 

"That's  neutrality  of  the  right  sort,"  said  Kips- 
haven  heartily.  "I  wish  all  of  your  countrymen  felt 
as  you  do." 

"I  think  most  of  them  do,"  replied  Doris,  smil- 
ing slowly,  "but  you  know,  you  haven't  always  been 
nice  to  us.  There  have  been  many  times  when  we 
felt  that  as  an  older  brother  you  treated  us 

11 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


rather  shabbily.     I'm  heaping  coals  of  fire,  you  see." 

"Touche!"  said  Rizzio,  with  a  laugh. 

"I  bare  my  head,"  said  the  Earl. 

"Ashes  to  ashes,"  from  Lady  Joyliffe. 

Kipshaven  smiled.  "Once  in  England  gray  hairs 
were  venerated,  even  among  the  frivolous.  Now,"  he 
sighed,  "they  are  only  a  reproach.  Peccavi.  Forgive 
me.  I  wish  I  could  set  the  clock  back." 

"You'd  go?"  asked  Doris. 

"Tomorrow,"  said  the  old  Earl  with  enthusiasm. 

Miss  Mather  glanced  at  Hammersley  who  was  en- 
joying his  soup,  a  puree  he  liked  particularly. 

"But  isn't  there  something  you  could  do?" 

"Yes.  Write,  for  America — for  Italy — for  Sweden 
and  Holland — for  Spain.  It's  something,  but  it  isn't 
enough.  My  fingers  are  itching  for  a  sword." 

The  Honorable  Cyril  looked  up. 

"Pen  mightier  than  sword,"  he  quoted  vacuously, 
and  went  on  with  his  soup. 

"You  don't  really  mean  that,  Hammersley,"  said 
Kipshaven  amid  smiles. 

"Well  rather,"  drawled  the  other.  "All  silly  rot— 
fightin'.  What's  the  use.  Spoiled  my  boar-shootin' 
in  Hesse-Nassau — no  season  at  Carlsbad — no  sea- 
son anywhere — everything  the  same — winter — sum- 
mer  " 

"You  wouldn't  think  so  if  you  were  in  the  trenches, 
my  boy,"  laughed  Byfield. 

"Beastly  happy  I'm  not,"  said  Hammersley.  "Don't 
mind  shootin'  pheasant  or  boar.  Bad  form — shootin' 
men — not  the  sportin'  thing,  you  know — pottin'  a  bird 
on  the  ground — 'specially  Germans." 

"Boches!"  said  Lady  Betty  contemptuously.  She 
was  inclined  to  be  intolerant.  For  her  Algy  had  al- 


SHELTERED  PEOPLE 


ready  been  mentioned  in  dispatches.  "I  don't  under- 
stand you,  Cyril." 

Hammersley  regarded  her  gravely  while  Constance 
'Joyliffe  took  up  his  cudgels. 

"You  forget  Cyril's  four  years  at  Heidelberg." 

"No  I  don't,"  said  their  hostess  warmly,  "and  I 
could  almost  believe  Cyril  had  German  sympathies." 

"I  have,  you  know,"  said  Hammersley  calmly,  sniff- 
ing at  the  rim  of  his  wineglass. 

"This  is  hardly  the  time  to  confess  it,"  said  Kips- 
haven  dryly. 

Doris  sat  silent,  aware  of  a  deep  humiliation  which 
seemed  to  envelop  them  both. 

Rizzio  laughed  and  produced  a  clipping  from  Punch. 
"Hammersley  is  merely  stoically  peaceful.  Listen." 
And  he  read: 

"I  was  playing  golf  one  day  when  the  Germans 

landed 
All  our  troops  had  run  away  and  all  our  ships  were 

stranded 
And  the  thought  of  England's  shame  nearly  put 

me  off  my  game." 

Amid  the  laughter  the  Honorable  Cyril  straight- 
ened. 

"Silly  stuff,  that,"  he  said  quite  seriously,  "to  put  a 
fellow  off  his  game."  And  turning  to  Lady  Joyliffe: 
"Punch  a  bit  brackish  lately.  What?" 

"Cyril,  you're  insular,"  from  Lady  Heathcote. 

"No,  insulated,"  said  Doris  with  a  flash  of  the  eyes. 

Rizzio  laughed.  "Highly  potential  but — er — not 
dangerous.  Why  should  he  be?  He's  your  typical 
Briton — sport-loving,  calm  and  nerveless  in  the  most 
exacting  situations — I  was  at  Lords,  you  know,  when 

13 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


Hammersley  made  that  winning  run  for  Marylebone — 
two  minutes  to  play.  Every  bowler  they  put  up — 

"It's  hardly  a  time  for  bats,"  put  in  Kipshaven 
dryly.  "What  we  need  is  fast  bowlers — with  rifles." 

The  object  of  these  remarks  sat  serenely,  smiling 
blandly  around  the  table,  but  made  no  reply.  In  the 
pause  that  followed  Sandys  was  heard  in  a  half  whis- 
per to  Byfield. 

"What's  this  I  hear  of  a  leak  at  the  War  Office?" 

Captain  Byfield  glanced  down  the  table.  "Have  you 
heard  that?" 

"Yes.     At  the  club." 

Captain  Byfield  touched  the  rim  of  his  glass  to  his 
lips. 

"I've  heard  nothing  of  it." 

"What?"  from  a  chorus. 

"Information  is  getting  out  somewhere.  I  violate 
no  confidences  in  telling  you.  The  War  Office  is  per- 
turbed." 

"How  terrible!"  said  Lady  Joyliffe.  "And  don't 
they  suspect?" 

"That's  the  worst  of  it.  The  Germans  got  wind  of 
some  of  Lord  Kitchener's  plans  and  some  of  the  Ad- 
miralty's— which  nobody  knew  but  those  very  near 
the  men  at  the  top." 

"A  spy  in  that  circle — unbelievable,"  said  Kips- 
haven. 

"My  authority  is  a  man  of  importance.  Fortu- 
nately no  damage  has  been  done.  The  story  goes  that 
we're  issuing  false  statements  in  certain  channels  to 
mislead  the  enemy  and  find  the  culprit." 

"But  how  does  the  news  reach  the  Germans?"  asked 
Rizzio. 

"No  one  knows.  By  courier  to  the  coast  and  then 

14 


SHELTERED  PEOPLE 


by  fast  motor-boat  perhaps;  or  by  aeroplane.  It's 
very  mysterious.  A  huge  Taube,  yellow  in  color,  flying 
over  the  North  Sea  between  England  and  the  conti- 
nent has  been  sighted  and  reported  by  English  vessels 
again  and  again  and  each  flight  has  coincided  with 
some  unexpected  move  on  the  part  of  the  enemy.  Once 
it  was  seen  just  before  the  raid  at  Falmouth,  again  be- 
fore the  Zeppelin  visit  to  Sandringham." 

"A  yellow  dove !"  said  Lady  Kipshaven.  "A  bird  of 
ill  omen,  surely." 

"But  how  could  such  an  aeroplane  leave  the  shores 
of  England  without  being  remarked?"  asked  Kips- 
haven. 

"Oh,"  laughed  Sandys,  "answer  me  that  and  we 
have  the  solution  of  the  problem.  A  strict  watch  is 
being  kept  on  the  coasts,  and  the  government  em- 
ployees— the  postmen,  police,  secret-service  men  of 
every  town  and  village  from  here  to  the  Shetlands  are 
on  the  lookout — but  not  a  glimpse  have  they  had  of 
him,  not  a  sign  of  his  arrival  or  departure,  but  only 
last  week  he  was  reported  by  a  destroyer  flying  toward 
the  English  coast." 

"Most  extraordinary!"  from  Lady  Kipshaven. 

"It's  a  large  machine?"  asked  Rizzio. 

"Larger  than  any  aeroplane  ever  built  in  Europe. 
They  say  Curtis,  the  American,  was  building  a  thou- 
sand horsepower  machine  at  Hammondsport — in  the 
States.  This  one  must  be  at  least  as  large  as  that." 

"But  surely  such  a  machine  could  not  be  hidden  in 
England  for  any  length  of  time  without  discovery." 

"It  would  seem  so — but  there  you  are.  The  main 
point  is  that  he  hasn't  been  discovered  and  that  its 
pilot  is  here  in  England — ready  to  fly  across  the  sea 
with  our  military  secrets  when  he  gets  them." 

15 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


"D — n  him!"  growled  Kipshaven  quite  audibly,  a 
sentiment  which  echoed  so  truly  in  the  hearts  of  those 
present  that  it  passed  without  comment. 

"The  captain  of  a  merchant  steamer  who  saw  it 
quite  plainly  reported  that  the  power  of  the  machine 
was  simply  amazing — that  it  flew  at  about  six  thousand 
feet  and  was  lost  to  sight  in  an  incredibly  brief  time. 
In  short,  my  friends,  the  Yellow  Dove  is  one  of  the 
miracles  of  the  day — and  its  pilot  one  of  its  mys- 
teries." 

"But  our  aviation  men — can  they  do  nothing?" 

"What?  Chase  rainbows?  Where  shall  their  voy- 
age begin  and  where  end?  He's  over  the  North  Sea 
one  minute  and  in  Belgium  the  next.  Our  troops  in 
the  trenches  think  he's  a  phantom.  They  say  even  the 
bombs  he  drops  are  phantoms.  They  are  heard  to  ex- 
plode but  nobody  has  ever  been  hit  by  them." 

"What  will  the  War  Office  do?" 

Sandys  shrugged  expressively.  "What  would  you 
do?" 

"Shoot  the  beggar,"  said  the  Honorable  Cyril  im- 
passively. 

"Shoot  the  moon,  sir,"  roared  the  Earl  angrily. 
"It's  no  time  for  idiotic  remarks.  If  this  story  is  true, 
a  danger  hangs  over  England.  No  wholesome  Briton," 
here  he  glanced  again  at  Hammersley,  "ought  to  go  to 
sleep  until  this  menace  is  discovered  and  destroyed." 

"The  Yellow  Dove  is  occult,"  said  Sandys,  "like  a 
witch  on  a  broomstick." 

"A  Flying  Dutchman,"  returned  Lady  Joyliffe. 

"There  seems  to  be  no  joke  about  that,"  said  the 
Earl. 


CHAPTER    II 

THE    UNDERCURRENT 

THEY  were  still  discussing  the  strange  story  of 
Sandys  when  Lady  Heathcote  signaled  her 
feminine  guests  and  they  retired  to  the  draw- 
ing-room. Over  the  coffee  the  interest  persisted  and 
Lord  Kipshaven  was  not  to  be  denied.  If,  as  it  seemed 
probable,  this  German  spy  was  making  frequent  flights 
between  England  and  the  continent,  he  must  have  some 
landing  field,  a  hangar,  a  machine  shop  with  supplies 
of  oil  and  fuel.  Where  in  this  tight  little  island  could 
a  German  airman  descend  with  a  thousand  horsepower 
machine  and  not  be  discovered  unless  with  the  conniv- 
ance of  Englishmen?  The  thing  looked  bad.  If  there 
were  Englishmen  in  high  places  in  London  who  could 
be  bought,  there  were  others,  many  others,  who 
helped  to  form  the  vicious  chain  which  led  to  Ger- 
many. 

"I  tell  you  I  believe  we're  honeycombed  with  spies," 
he  growled.  "For  one  that  we've  caught  and  impris- 
oned or  shot,  there  are  dozens  in  the  very  midst  of  us. 
If  this  thing  keeps  up  we'll  all  of  us  be  suspecting  one 
another.  How  do  I  know  that  you,  Sandys,  you,  Rizzio, 
Byfield  or  even  Hammersley  here  isn't  a  secret  agent  of 
the  Germans?  What  dinner- table  in  England  is  safe 
when  spies  are  found  in  the  official  family  at  the  War 
Office?" 

Rizzio  smiled. 

"We,  who  are  about  to  die,  salute  you,"  he  said, 

17 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


raising  his  liqueur  glass.     "And  you,  Lord  Kipshaven, 
how  can  we  be  sure  of  you?" 

"By  this  token,"  said  the  old  man,  rising  and  put- 
ting his  back  to  the  fire,  "that  if  I  even  suspected,  I'd 
shoot  any  one  of  you  down  here — now,  with  as  little 
compunction  as  I'd  kill  a  dog." 

"I'll  have  my  coffee  first,"  laughed  Byfield,  "if  you 
don't  mind." 

"Coffee — then  coffin,"  said  Rizzio. 

"Jolly  unpleasant  conversation  this,"  remarked 
Hammersley.  "Makes  a  chap  a  bit  fidgety." 

"Fidgety!"  roared  the  Earl.  "We  ought  to  be  fid- 
gety with  the  Germans  winning  east  and  west  and  the 
finest  flower  of  our  service  already  killed  in  battle.  We 
need  men  and  still  more  men.  Any  able-bodied  fellow 
under  forty  who  stays  at  home" — and  he  glanced  mean- 
ingly at  the  Honorable  Cyril — "ought  to  be  put  to 
work  mending  roads." 

The  object  of  these  remarks  turned  the  blank  stare 
of  his  monocle  but  made  no  reply. 

"Yes,  I  mean  you,  Cyril,"  went  on  the  Earl  steadily. 
"Your  mother  was  born  a  Prussian.  I  knew  her  well 
and  I  think  she  learned  to  thank  God  that  fortune  had 
given  her  an  Englishman  for  a  husband.  But  the  taint 
is  in  you.  Your  brother  has  been  wounded  at  the 
front.  His  blood  is  cleansed.  But  what  of  yours? 
You  went  to  a  German  university  with  your  Prussian 
kinsmen  and  now  openly  flaunt  your  sympathies  at  a 
dinner  of  British  patriots.  Speak  up.  How  do  you 
stand?  Your  friends  demand  it." 

Hammersley  turned  his  cigarette  carefully  in  its 
long  amber  holder. 

"Oh,  I  say,  Lord  Kipshaven,"  he  said  with  a  slow 
smile,  "you're  not  spoofing  a  chap,  are  you?" 

18 


THE  UNDERCURRENT 


"I  was  never  more  in  earnest  in  my  life.  How  do 
you  stand?" 

"Haw!"  said  Hammersley  with  obvious  effort.  "I'm 
British,  you  know,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing.  How  can 
an  Englishman  be  anything  else?  Silly  rot — fightin' — 
that's  what  I  say.  That's  all  I  say,"  he  finished  look- 
ing calmly  for  approval  from  one  to  the  other. 

Smiles  from  Sandys  and  Rizzio  met  this  inadequacy, 
but  the  Earl,  after  glaring  at  him  moodily  for  a  mo- 
ment, uttered  a  smothered,  "Paugh,"  and  shrugging  a 
shoulder,  turned  to  Rizzio  and  Sandys  who  were  dis- 
cussing a  recent  submarine  raid. 

Hammersley  and  Byfield  sat  near  each  other  at  the 
side  of  the  table  away  from  the  others.  There  was  a 
moment  of  silence — which  Hammersley  improved  by 
blowing  smoke  rings  toward  the  ceiling.  Captain  By- 
field  watched  him  a  moment  and  then  after  a  glance  in 
the  direction  of  the  Earl  leaned  carelessly  on  an  elbow 
toward  Hammersley. 

"Any  shootin'  at  the  North?"  he  asked. 

Hammersley's  monocle  dropped  and  the  eyes  of  the 
two  men  met. 

"Yes.  I'm  shootin'  the  day  after  tomorrow."  said 
Hammersley  quietly.  Byfield  looked  away  and  another 
long  moment  of  silence  followed.  Then  the  Honorable 
Cyril  after  a  puff  or  two  took  the  long  amber  holder 
from  his  mouth,  removed  the  cigarette  and  smudged  the 
ash  upon  the  receiver. 

"Bally  heady  cigarettes,  these  of  Algy's.  Don't 
happen  to  have  any  'baccy  and  papers  about  you,  do 
you,  Byfield?" 

"Well,  rather,"  replied  the  captain.  And  he  pushed 
a  pouch  and  a  package  of  cigarette  papers  along  the 
tablecloth.  "It's  a  mix  of  my  own.  I  hope  you'll  like  it." 

19 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


Hammersley  opened  the  bag  and  sniffed  at  its  con- 
tents. 

"Good  stuff,  that.  Virginia,  Perique  and  a  bit  of 
Turkish.  What?" 

Byfield  nodded  and  watched  Hammersley  as  he 
poured  out  the  tobacco,  rolled  the  paper  and  lighted 
it  at  the  candelabra,  inhaling  luxuriously. 

"Thanks,"  he  sighed.  "Jolly  good  of  you,"  and  he 
pushed  the  pouch  back  to  Byfield  along  the  table. 

"You  must  come  to  Scotland  some  day,  old  chap," 
said  the  Honorable  Cyril  carelessly. 

"Delighted.  When  the  war  is  over,"  returned  By- 
field  quietly.  "Not  until  the  war  is  over." 

"Awf'ly  glad  to  have  you  any  time,  you  know — 
awf'ly  glad." 

"In  case  of  furlough — I'll  look  you  up." 

"Do,"  said  the  Honorable  Cyril. 

Hammersle37's  rather  bovine  gaze  passed  slowly 
around  the  room,  and  just  over  Lord  Kipshaven's  head 
in  the  mirror  over  the  mantel  it  met  the  dark  gaze  of 
John  Rizzio.  The  fraction  of  a  second  it  paused  there 
and  then  he  stretched  his  long  legs  and  rose,  stifling  a 
yawn. 

"Let's  go  in — what?"  he  said  to  Byfield. 

Byfield  got  up  and  at  the  same  time  there  was  a 
movement  at  the  mantel. 

"Don't  be  too  hard  on  the  chap,"  Rizzio  was  saying 
in  an  undertone  to  Kipshaven.  "You're  singing  the 
*Hassgesang.'  He's  harmless — I  tell  you — positively 
harmless."  And  then  as  the  others  moved  toward  the 
door:  "Come,  Lady  Heathcote  won't  mind  our  to- 
bacco." 

Hammersley  led  the  way,  with  Byfield  and  Rizzio 
at  his  heels.  Jacqueline  Morley  had  been  trying  to 

20 


THE  UNDERCURRENT 


play  the  piano,  but  there  was  no  heart  in  the  music 
until  she  struck  up  "Tipperary,"  when  there  was  a 
generous  chorus  in  which  the  men  joined. 

Hammersley  found  Doris  with  Constance  Joyliffe 
in  an  alcove.  At  his  approach  Lady  Joyliffe  retired. 

"Handsome,  no  end,"  he  murmured  to  her  as  he 
sank  beside  her. 

"Handsome  is  as  handsome  does,  Cyril,"  she  said 
slowly.  "If  you  knew  what  I  was  thinking  of,  you 
wouldn't  be  so  generous." 

"What?" 

"Just  what  everybody  is  thinking  about  you — that 
you've  got  to  do  something — enlist  to  fight — go  to 
France,  if  only  as  a  chauffeur.  They'd  let  you  do  that 
tomorrow  if  you'd  go." 

"Chauffeur !    Me !    Not  really !" 

"Yes,  that  or  something  else,"  determinedly. 

"Why?" 

She  hesitated  a  moment  and  then  went  on  distinctly. 

"Because  I  could  never  marry  a  man  people  talked 
about  as  people  are  talking  about  you." 

"Not  marry — ?"  The  Honorable  Cyril's  face  for 
the  first  time  that  evening  showed  an  expression  of  con- 
cern. "Not  marry — me?  You  can't  mean  that, 
Doris." 

"I  do  mean  it,  Cyril,"  she  said  firmly.  "I  can't 
marry  you." 

"Why ?" 

"Because  to  me  love  is  a  sacrament.  Love  of  woman 
— love  of  country,  but  the  last  is  the  greater  of  the 
two.  No  man  who  isn't  a  patriot  is  fit  to  be  a  hus- 
band." 

"A  patriot " 

She   broke   in   before   he   could  protest.      "Yes — a 


THE  YELLOW  DOFE 


patriot.  You're  not  a  patriot — that  is,  if  you're  an 
Englishman.  I  don't  know  you,  Cyril.  You  puzzle 
me.  You're  lukewarm.  Day  after  day  you've  seen 
your  friends  and  mine  go  off  in  uniform,  but  it  doesn't 
mean  anything  to  you.  It  doesn't  mean  anything  to 
you  that  England  is  in  danger  and  that  she  needs 
every  man  who  can  be  spared  at  home  to  go  to  the 
front.  You  see  them  go  and  the  only  thing  it  means 
to  you  is  that  you're  losing  club-mates  and  sport- 
mates.  Instead  of  taking  the  infection  of  fervor — 
you  go  to  Scotland — to  shoot — not  Germans  but — 
deer!  Deer!"  she  repeated  scathingly. 

"But  there  aren't  any  Germans  in  Scotland — at  least 
none  that  a  chap  could  shoot,"  he  said  with  a  smile. 

"Then  go  where  there  are  Germans  to  shoot,"  she 
said  impetuously.  She  put  her  face  to  her  hands  a 
moment.  "Oh,  don't  you  understand?  You've  got  to 
prove  yourself.  You've  got  to  make  people  stop  speak- 
ing of  you  as  I've  heard  them  speak  of  you  tonight. 
Here  you  are  in  the  midst  of  friends,  people  who  know 
you  and  like  you,  but  what  must  other  people  who 
don't  know  you  so  well  or  care  so  much  as  we?  What 
must  they  think  and  say  of  your  indifference,  of  your 
openly  expressed  sympathy  with  England's  enemies? 
Even  Lady  Betty,  a  kinswoman  and  one  of  your  truest 
friends,  has  lost  patience  with  you — I  had  almost  said 
lost  confidence  in  you." 

Her  voice  trailed  into  silence.  Hammersley  was 
moving  the  toe  of  his  varnished  boot  along  the  border 
of  the  Aubusson  rug. 

"I'm  sorry,"  he  said  slowly.     "Awf'ly  sorry." 

"Sorry!  Are  you?  But  what  are  you  going  to  do 
about  it?" 

"Do?"  he  said  vaguely.     "I  don't  know,  I'm  sure. 


THE  UNDERCURRENT 

I'm  no  bally  use,  you  know.  Wouldn't  be  any  bally  use 
over  there.  Make  some  silly  ass  mistake  probably. 
No  end  of  trouble — all  around." 

"And  you're  willing  to  sacrifice  the  goodwill,  the 
affection  of  your  friends,  the  respect  of  the  girl  you 
say  you  love " 

"Oh,  I  say,  Doris.    Not  that " 

"Yes.  I've  got  to  tell  you.  I  can't  be  unfair  to 
myself.  I  can't  respect  a  man  who  sees  others  cheer- 
fully carrying  his  burdens,  doing  his  work,  accepting 
his  hardships  in  order  that  he  may  sleep  soundly  at 
home  far  away  from  the  nightmare  of  shot  and  shell. 
You,  Cyril,  you!  Is  it  that — the  love  of  ease?  Or  is 
it  something  else — something  to  do  with  your  German 
kinship — the  memory  of  your  mother.  What  is  it? 
If  you  still  want  me,  Cyril,  it  is  my  right  to  know ': 

"Want  you,  Doris — "  his  voice  went  a  little  lower. 
"Yes,  I  want  you.  You  might  know  that." 

"Then  you  must  tell  me." 

He  hesitated  and  peered  at  the  eyeglass  in  his  fin- 
gers. 

"I  think — it's  because  I — "  He  paused  and  then 
crossed  his  hands  and  bowed  his  head  with  an  air  of 
relinquishment.  "Because  I  think  I  must  be  a" — he 
almost  whispered  the  word — "a  coward." 

Doris  Mather  gazed  at  him  a  long  moment  of  min- 
gled dismay  and  incredulity. 

"You,"  she  whispered,  "the  first  sportsman  of  Eng- 
(and — a — a  coward." 

He  gave  a  short  mirthless  laugh. 

"Queer,  isn't  it,  the  way  a  chap  feels  about  such 
things?  I  always  hated  the  idea  of  being  mangled. 
Awf'ly  unpleasant  idea  that — 'specially  in  the  tummy. 

In  India  once  I  saw  a  chap " 

23 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


"You — a  coward!"  Doris  repeated,  wide-eyed.  "I 
don't  believe  you." 

He  bent  his  head  again. 

"I — I'm  afraid  you'd  better,"  he  said  uncertainly. 

She  rose,  still  looking  at  him  incredulously,  another 
Idoubt,  a  more  dreadful  one,  winging  its  flight  to  and 
fro  across  her  inner  vision. 

"Come,"  she  said  in  a  tone  she  hardly  recognized 
as  her  own,  "come  let  us  join  the  others." 

He  stood  uncertainly  and  as  she  started  to  go, 

"You'll  let  me  take  you  home,  Doris?"  he  asked. 

She  bent  her  head,  and  without  replying  made  her 
way  to  the  group  beyond  the  alcove. 

Hammersley  stood  a  moment  watching  her  dimin- 
ishing back  and  then  a  curious  expression,  half  of  trou- 
ble, half  of  resolution,  came  into  his  eyes. 

Then  after  a  quick  glance  around  the  curtain  he 
suddenly  reached  into  his  trousers  pocket,  took  some- 
thing out  and  scrutinized  it  carefully  by  the  light  of 
the  lamp.  He  put  it  back  quickly  and  setting  his 
monocle  sauntered  forth  into  the  room.  As  he  moved 
to  join  the  group  at  the  piano  John  Rizzio  met  him 
in  the  middle  of  the  room. 

"Could  I  have  a  word  with  you,  Hammersley?"  he 
asked. 

"Happy,"  said  the  Honorable  Cyril.     "Here?" 

"In  the  smoking-room — if  you  don't  mind?" 

Hammersley  hesitated  a  moment  and  then  swung  on 
his  heels  and  led  the  way.  At  the  smoking-room  door 
from  the  hallway  Rizzio  paused,  then  quietly  drew  the 
heavy  curtains  behind  them. 

Hammersley,  standing  by  the  table,  followed  this 
action  with  a  kind  of  bored  curiosity,  aware  that  Riz- 
zio's  dark  gaze  had  never  once  left  him  since  they  had 


THE  UNDERCURRENT 


entered  the  room.  Slowly  Hammersley  took  his  hands 
from  his  pockets,  reached  into  his  waistcoat  for  his 
cigarette  case,  and  as  Rizzio  approached,  opened  and 
offered  it  to  him. 

"Smoke?"  he  asked  carelessly. 

"I  don't  mind  if  I  do.  But  I've  taken  a  curious  lik- 
ing for  rolled  cigarettes.  Ah!  I  thought  so."  He 
opened  the  tobacco  jar  and  sniffed  at  it,  searched 
around  the  articles  on  the  table,  then,  "How  disap- 
pointing! Nothing  but  Algy's  dreadful  pipes.  You 
don't  happen  to  have  any  rice-papers  do  you?" 

Hammersley  was  lighting  his  own  cigarette  at  the 
brazier. 

"No.     Sorry,"  he  replied  laconically. 

Rizzio  leaned  beside  him  against  the  edge  of  the 
table. 

"Strange.  I  thought  I  saw  you  making  a  cigarette 
in  the  dining-room." 

Hammersley's  face  brightened.  "Oh,  yes,  Byfield. 
Byfield  has  rice-papers." 

"I'd  rather  have  yours,"  he  said  quietly. 

The  Honorable  Cyril  looked  up. 

"Mine,  old  chap?  I  thought  I  told  you  I  hadn't 
any/'  ^ 

Rizzio  smiled  amiably. 

"Then  I  must  have  misunderstood  you,"  he  said 
politely. 

"Yes,"  said  Hammersley  and  sank  into  an  arm- 
chair. 

Rizzio  did  not  move  and  the  Honorable  Cyril,  his 
head  back,  was  already  blowing  smoke  rings. 

Rizzio  suddenly  relaxed  with  a  laugh  and  put  his 
legs  over  a  small  chair  near  Hammersley's  and  folded 
his  arms  along  its  back. 

3  25 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


"Do  you  know,  Hammersley,"  he  said  with  a  laugh, 
"I  sometimes  think  that  as  I  grow  older  my  hearing 
is  not  as  good  as  it  used  to  be.  Perhaps  you'll  say 
that  I  cling  to  my  vanishing  youth  with  a  fatuous 
desperation.  I  do.  Rather  silly,  isn't  it,  because  I'm 
quite  forty-five.  But  I've  a  curiosity,  even  in  so  small 
a  matter,  to  learn  whether  things  are  as  bad  with  me  as 
I  think  they  are.  Now  unless  you're  going  to  add  a 
few  more  gray  hairs  to  my  head  by  telling  me  that  I'm 
losing  my  sight  as  well  as  my  hearing,  you'll  gratify 
my  curiosity — an  idle  curiosity,  if  you  like,  but  still 
strangely  important  to  my  peace  of  mind." 

He  paused  a  moment  and  looked  at  Cyril,  who  was 
examining  him  with  frank  bewilderment. 

"I  don't  think  I  understand,"  said  Hammersley  po- 
litely. 

""I'll  try  to  make  it  clearer.  Something  has  hap- 
pened tonight  that  makes  me  think  that  I'm  getting 
either  blind  or  deaf  or  both.  To  begin  with  I  thought 
you  said  you  had  no  cigarette  papers.  If  I  heard  you 
wrong,  then  the  burden  of  proof  rests  upon  my  ears — 
if  my  eyes  are  at  fault  it's  high  time  I  consulted  a 
specialist,  because  you  know,  at  the  table  in  the  dining- 
room  when  you  were  sitting  with  Byfield,  quite  dis- 
tinctly I  saw  you  put  a  package  of  Riz-la-Croix  into 
your  right-hand  trousers  pocket.  The  color  as  you 
know  is  yellow — a  color  to  which  my  optic  nerve  is 
peculiarly  sensitive."  He  laughed  again.  "I  know 
you'd  hardly  go  out  of  your  way  to  make  a  misstate- 
mont  on  so  small  a  matter,  and  if  you  don't  mind  sat- 
isfying a  foible  of  my  vanity,  I  wish  you'd  tell  me 
whether  or  not  I'm  mistaken." 

He  stopped  and  looked  at  Hammersley  who  was  re- 
garding him  with  polite,  if  puzzled  tolerance.  Then, 


THE  UNDERCURRENT 


as   if  realizing   that   something  was    required   of  him 
Hammersley  leaned  forward. 

"I  say,  Rizzio.  What  the  deuce  is  it  all  about? 
I'm  sorry  you're  gettin'  old  an'  all  that  sort  of  thing, 
but  I  can't  help  it.  Now  can  I,  old  chap?" 

Rizzio's  smile  slowly  faded  and  his  gaze  passed 
Hammersley  and  rested  on  the  brass  fender  of  tke 
fireplace. 

"You  don't  care  to  tell  me?"  he  asked. 

"What?" 

"About  that  package  of  rice-papers." 

"Byfield  has  them." 

"Not  that  package,"  put  in  Rizzio  with  a  wave  of 
the  hand.  And  then,  leaning  forward,  in  a  low  tone, 
"The  other." 

Hammersley  sat  upright  a  moment,  his  hands  on  the 
chair-arms  and  then  sank  back  in  his  chair  with  a 
laugh. 

"I  say.  I  can  take  a  joke  as  well  as  the  next,  but — - 
er — what's  the  answer?" 

Rizzio  rose,  his  graceful  figure  dominant. 

"I  don't  think  that  sort  of  thing  will  do,  Ham- 
mersley." 

His  demeanor  was  perfectly  correct,  his  hand-wave 
easy  and  a  well-bred  smile  flickered  at  his   lips,  but 
his  tone  masked  a  mystery.     Hammersley  rose,  remov-j 
ing  his    cigarette   with   great   deliberateness   from  its 
holder  and  throwing  it  into  the  fire. 

"If  there  isn't  anything  else  you  want  to  see  me 
about — "  He  took  a  step  in  the  direction  of  the 
door. 

"One  moment,  please." 

Hammersley  paused. 

"I   think    we'd    better    drop    subterfuge.      I    know 
27 


THE  YELLOW  DOFE 


why  you  were  here  tonight,  why  Byfield  was  here  and 
perhaps  you  know  now  why  I  am  here." 

"Can't  imagine,  I'm  sure,"  said  Cyril. 

"Perhaps  you  can  guess,  when  I  tell  you  that  this 
party  was  of  my  own  choosing — that  my  plans  were 
made  with  a  view  to  arranging  your  meeting  with  Cap- 
tain Byfield  in  a  place  known  to  be  above  suspicion. 
I  have  been  empowered  to  relieve  you  of  any  further 
responsibility  in  the  matter  in  question — in  short  of 
the  papers  themselves." 

"Oh,  I  say.  Vanished  youth,  cigarette  papers  and 
all  that.  You're  goin'  it  a  bit  thick,  Rizzio,  old  boy." 

Rizzio  put  a  hand  into  the  inside  pocket  of  his  even- 
ing coat  and  drew  out  a  card-case,  which  he  opened 
under  Hammersley's  eyes. 

"Look,  Hammersley,"  he  whispered.  "Maxwell  gave 
me  this !  Perhaps  you  understand  now." 

The  Honorable  Cyril  fixed  his  eyeglass  carefully  and 
stared  at  the  card-case. 

"By  Jove,"  he  muttered,  with  sudden  interest. 

"Now  you  understand?"  said  Rizzio. 

"You !"  whispered  Hammersley,  looking  at  him.  The 
languor  of  a  moment  before  had  fallen  from  him  with 
his  dropping  monocle. 

"Yes,  I.  Now  quick,  the  papers,"  muttered  Rizzio, 
putting  the  card-case  in  his  pocket.  "Someone  may 
come  at  any  moment." 

For  a  long  space  of  time  Hammersley  stood  uncer- 
tainly peering  down  at  the  pattern  in  the  rug,  then  he 
straightened  and,  crossing  the  room,  put  his  back  to 
the  fireplace. 

"There  may  be  a  mistake,"  he  said  firmly.  "I  can't 
risk  it." 

Rizzio  stood  for  a  moment  staring  at  him  as  though 
28 


THE  UNDERCURRENT 


he  had  not  heard  correctly.  Then  he  crossed  over  and 
faced  the  other  man. 

"You  mean  that?" 

Hammersley  put  his  hands  in  his  trousers  pockets. 

"I  fancy  so." 

"What  are  you  going  to  do?" 

"What  I've  been  told  to  do." 

"My  orders  supersede  yours." 

"H-m.     I'm  not  sure." 

"You  can't  doubt  my  credentials." 

"Hardly  that.    Er— I  think  I  know  best,  that's  aH.'J 

Rizzio  took  a  pace  or  two  before  the  fireplace  in 
front  of  him,  his  brows  tangled,  his  fingers  twitching 
behind  his  back.  Then  he  stopped  with  the  air  of  a 
man  who  has  reached  a  decision. 

"You  understand  what  this  refusal  means?" 

Hammersley  shrugged. 

"You  realize  that  it  makes  you  an  object  of  suspi- 
cion ?"  asked  the  other. 

"How?  In  doing  what  was  expected  of  me?"  said 
Hammersley  easily. 

"You  are  expected  to  give  those  papers  to  me." 

"I  can't." 

Rizzio's  fine  face  had  gone  a  shade  paler  under  the 
glossy  black  of  his  hair  and  his  eyes  gleamed  danger- 
ously under  his  shaggy  brows.  He  measured  the  Hon- 
orable Cyril's  six  feet  two  against  his  own  and  then 
turned  away. 

"I  think  I  understand,"  he  said  slowly.  "Your  ac- 
tion leaves  me  no  other  alternative." 

Hammersley,  his  hands  still  deep  in  his  pockets, 
seemed  to  be  thinking  deeply. 

"Oh,  I  wouldn't  say  that.  Each  man  according  to 
his  lights.  You  have  your  orders.  I  have  mine.  They 

29 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


seem  to  conflict.  I'm  going  to  carry  mine  out.  If  that 
interferes  with  carrying  out  yours,  I'm  not  to  blame. 
It's  what  happens  in  the  end  that  matters,"  he  finished 
significantly. 

Rizzio  thought  deeply  for  a  moment. 

"You'll  at  least  let  me  see  them?" 

"No,  I  can't." 

"Why?" 

"I  have  my  own  reasons." 

Another  pause  in  which  Rizzio  gave  every  appear- 
ance of  a  baffled  man. 

"You  realize  that  if  I  gave  the  alarm  and  those 
papers  were  found  on  you " 

"You  wouldn't  do  that." 

"Why  not?" 

"Because  of  your  card-case." 

"That  signifies  nothing  to  anyone  but  you  and  me." 

Hammersley  smiled. 

"I'll  take  the  risk,  Rizzio,"  he  said  finally. 

The  two  men  had  been  so  absorbed  in  their  conver- 
sation that  they  had  not  heard  the  drawing  of  the  cur- 
tains of  the  door,  but  a  sound  made  them  turn  and 
there  stood  Doris  Mather. 


CHAPTER   III 
RICE-PAPERS 

DORIS  looked  from  the  man  whose  hand  she  had 
accepted  to  the  one  she  had  refused.     Their 
attitudes  were  eloquent  of  concealment  and 
the  few  phrases   which  had   reached  Jier  ears    as   she 
paused  outside  the  curtain  did  nothing  to  relieve  the 
sudden  tension  of  her  fears.     She  hesitated  for  a  mo- 
ment as  Rizzio  recovered  himself  with  an  effort. 

"Do  come  in,  Doris,"  he  said  with  a  smile.  "Ham- 
mersley  and  I  were — er " 

"Discussing  the  scrap  of  paper.  I'm  sure  of  it,'* 
she  said  coolly.  "Nothing  is  so  fruitful  of  argument. 
I  shouldn't  have  intruded,  but  Cyril  was  to  take  me 
home  and  I'm  ready  to  go." 

A  look  passed  between  the  men. 

"By  Jove — of  course,"  said  Cyril  with  a  glance  at 
his  watch.  "If  you'll  excuse  me,  Rizzio " 

"Betty  is  going  to  Scotland  tomorrow  early  and  I 
think  she  wants  to  go  to  bed." 

Rizzio  laughed.  "The  war  has  made  us  virtuous. 
Eleven  o'clock !  We're  losing  our  beauty  sleep." 

He  followed  them  to  the  door,  but  pleading  a  desire 
for  a  night-cap,  remained  in  the  smoking-room. 

"I  promised  that  you  should  take  me  home,"  said 
the  girl  to  Hammersley  as  they  passed  along  the  hall, 
"But  I'm  sorry  if  I  interrupted : 

"Awf'ly  glad,"  he  murmured.  "Nothing  important, 
you  know.  Club  matter.  Personal." 

31 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


Doris  stopped  just  outside  the  drawing-room  door 
and  searched  his  face  keenly,  while  she  whispered: 

"And  the  threats — of  exposure.  Oh,  I  heard  that. 
I  couldn't  help  it— Cyril— " 

He  glanced  down  at  her  quickly. 

"Hush,  Doris." 

Something  she  saw  in  his  expression  changed  her 
resolution  to  question  him.  The  mystery  which  she 
had  felt  to  hang  about  him  since  he  had  said  he  was  a 
coward  had  deepened.  Something  told  her  that  she 
had  been  treading  on  forbidden  ground  and  that  in 
obeying  him  she  served  his  interests  best,  so  she  led 
the  way  into  the  drawing-room,  where  they  made  their 
adieux. 

Byfield  had  already  gone  and  Sandys  and  Lady 
Joyliffe  were  just  getting  into  their  wraps. 

"You'll  meet  me  here  at  ten?"  their  hostess  was  ask- 
ing of  Constance  Joyliffe. 

"If  I'm  not  demolished  by  a  Zeppelin  in  the  mean- 
while," laughed  the  widow. 

"Or  the  Yellow  Dove,"  said  Jacqueline  Morley. 
"I'm  sure  he  alights  on  the  roofs  of  the  Parliament 
Houses." 

"You'll  be  safe  in  Scotland  at  any  rate,  Constance. 
We're  quite  too  unimportant  up  there  to  be  visited  by 
engines  of  destruction — "  she  laughed  meaningly. 
"That  is — always  excepting  Jack  Sandys." 

Sandys  looked  self-conscious,  but  Lady  Joyliffe 
merely  beamed  benignly. 

"It  will  really  be  quite  restful,  I'm  sure,"  she  said 
easily.  "Is  Cyril  going  to  be  at  Ben-a-Chielt?" 

Hammersley  awoke  from  a  fit  of  abstraction. 

"Quite  possible,"  he  murmured,  "gettin'  to  be  a  bit 
of  a  hermit  lately.  Like  it  though — rather." 

32 


RICE-PAPERS 


"Cyril  hasn't  anyone  to  play  with,"  said  Betty 
Heathcote,  "so  he  has  taken  to  building  chicken- 
houses." 

"Fearfully  absorbin' — chicken-houses.  Workin'  'em 
out  on  a  plan  of  my  own.  You'll  see.  Goin'  in  for 
hens  to  lay  two  eggs  a  day."  And  then  to  Kipshaven, 
"So  the  submarines  can't  starve  us  out,  you  know," 
he  explained. 

"I  don't  think  you  need  worry  about  that,"  said  the 
Earl  dryly,  moving  toward  the  door. 

Doris  Mather  went  upstairs  for  her  wraps  and  when 
she  came  down  she  found  Hammersley  in  his  topcoat 
awaiting  her.  As  they  went  down  the  steps  into  the 
waiting  limousine  her  companion  offered  her  his  arm. 
Was  it  only  fancy  that  gave  her  the  impression  that 
his  glance  was  searching  the  darkness  of  the  Park  be- 
yond the  lights  of  the  waiting  cars  with  a  keenness 
which  seemed  uncalled  for  on  so  prosaic  an  occasion? 
He  helped  her  in  and  gave  the  direction  to  the  chauf- 
feur. 

"Ashwater  Park,  Stryker,  by  way  of  Hampstead — 
and  hurry,"  she  heard  him  say,  which  was  surprising 
since  the  nearer  way  lay  through  Harlenden  and  Har- 
row-on-Hill.  The  orders  to  hurry,  too,  save  in  the 
stress  of  need,  were  under  the  circumstances  hardly 
flattering  to  her  self-esteem.  But  she  remembered  the 
urgent  look  in  his  eyes  in  the  hall  when  he  had  silenced 
her  questions  and  sank  back  in  the  seat,  her  gaze  fixed 
on  the  gloom  of  Hyde  Park  to  their  left,  waiting  for 
him  to  speak.  He  sat  rigidly  beside  her,  his  hands 
clasped  about  his  stick,  his  eyes  peering  straight  be- 
fore him  at  the  back  of  Stryker's  head.  She  felt  his 
restraint  and  a  little  bitterly  remembered  the  cause 
of  it,  buoyed  by  a  hope  that  since  he  had  thought  it 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


fit  to  enact  a  lie,  the  whole  tissue  of  doubts  which  as- 
sailed her  might  be  based  on  misconception  also.  That 
he  was  no  coward  she  knew.  More  than  one  instance  of 
his  physical  courage  came  back  to  her,  incidents  of  his 
life  before  fortune  had  thrown  them  together  and  she 
only  too  well  remembered  the  time  when  he  had  jumped 
from  her  car  and  thrown  himself  in  front  of  a  runa- 
way horse,  saving  the  necks  of  the  occupants  of  the 
vehicle.  He  had  lied  to  her.  But  why — why? 

She  closed  her  eyes  trying  to  shut  out  the  darkness 
and  seek  the  sanctuary  of  some  inner  light,  but  she 
failed  to  find  it.  It  seemed  as  though  the  gloom  which 
spread  over  London  had  fallen  over  her  spirit. 

"The  City  of  Dreadful  Night,"  she  murmured  at 
last.  "I  can't  ever  seem  to  get  used  to  it." 

She  heard  his  light  laugh  and  the  sound  of  it  com- 
forted her. 

"Jolly  murky,  isn't  it?  I  miss  that  fireworks  Johnny 
pourin'  whiskey  over  by  Waterloo  Bridge — and  Big 
Ben.  Doesn't  seem  like  London.  All  rot  anyway." 

"You  don't  think  there's  danger,"  she  asked  cau- 
tiously. 

He  hesitated  a  moment  before  replying.  And  then, 
"No,"  he  said,  "not  now." 

Silence  fell  over  them  again.  It  was  as  though  a 
shape  sat  between,  a  phantom  of  her  dead  hopes  and 
his,  something  so  cold  and  tangible  that  she  drew  away 
in  her  own  corner  and  looked  out  at  the  meaningless 
blur  of  the  sleeping  city.  Her  lips  were  tightly  closed. 
She  had  given  him  his  chance  to  speak,  but  he  had  not 
spoken  and  every  foot  of  road  that  they  traversed 
seemed  to  carry  them  further  apart.  The  end  of  their 
journey — !  Was  it  to  be  the  end  ...  of  everything 
between  them? 

34 


RICE-PAPERS 


After  a  while  that  seemed  interminable  she  heard 
his  voice  again. 

"I  suppose  you  think  I'm  an  awful  rotter." 

She  turned  her  head  and  tried  to  read  his  face,  but 
he  kept  it  away  from  her,  toward  the  opposite  window. 
The  feeling  that  she  had  voiced  to  Betty  Heathcote 
of  wanting  to  "mother"  him  came  over  her  in  a  warm 
effusion. 

"Nothing  that  you  can  say  to  me  will  make  me  think 
jou  one,  Cyril,"  she  said  gently. 

"Thanks  awf'ly,"  he  murmured.  And  after  a  pause, 
"I  am  though,  you  know." 

She  leaned  forward  impulsively  and  laid  a  hand  on 
his  knee. 

"No.  You're  acting  strangely,  but  I  know  that 
there's  a  reason  for  it.  As  for  your  being  a  coward" — 
she  laughed  softly — "it's  impossible — quite  impossible 
to  make  me  believe  that." 

He  laid  his  fingers  over  hers  for  a  moment. 

"Nice  of  you  to  have  confidence  in  a  chap  and  all 
that,  but  appearances  are  against  me — that's  the  dif- 
ficulty." 

"Why  are  they  against  you?  Why  should  they  be 
against  you?  Because  you — "  She  stopped,  for 
here  she  felt  that  she  was  approaching  dangerous 
ground.  Instead  of  parleying  lynger,  she  used  her 
woman's  weapons  frankly  and  leaning  toward  him  put 
an  arm  around  his  neck  and  compelled  him  to  turn 
his  face  to  hers.  "Oh,  Cyril,  won't  you  tell  me  what  this 
mystery  is  that  is  coming  between  us?  Won't  you  let 
me  help  you?  I  want  to  be  in  the  sunlight  with  you 
again.  It  can't  go  on  this  way,  one  of  us  in  the  dark 
and  the  other  in  the  light.  I  have  felt  it  for  weeks. 
When  I  spoke  to  you  tonight  about  going  to  France  it 

35 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


was  in  the  hope  that  you  might  give  me  some  explana- 
tion that  would  satisfy  me.  My  heart  is  wrapped  up 
in  the  cause  of  England,  but  if  the  German  blood  in 
you  is  calling  you  away  from  your  duties  as  an  Eng- 
lishman, tell  me  frankly  and  I  will  try  to  forgive  you, 
but  don't  let  the  shadow  stay  over  us  any  longer,  Cyril. 
I  must  know  the  truth.  What  is  the  mystery  that 
hangs  over  you  and  makes " 

"Mystery?"  he  put  in  quickly.  "You're  a  bit  seedy, 
Doris.  Thinkin'  too  much  about  the  war.  Nothin' 
mysterious  about  me."  He  turned  his  head  away  from 
her  again.  "People  don't  like  my  sittin'  tight — here 
in  England,"  he  said  more  slowly,  "when  all  the  chaps 
I  know  are  off  to  the  front.  I — I  can't  help  it.  That's 
all." 

"But  it's  so  unlike  you,"  she  pleaded.  "It's  the 
sporting  thing,  Cyril." 

"I  want  you  to  believe,"  he  put  in  slowly,  "it  isn't 
the  kind  of  sport  I  care  for." 

"I  won't  believe  it.  I  can't.  I  know  you  better  than 
that." 

"That's  the  trouble,"  he  insisted.  "I'm  afraid  you 
don't  know  me  at  all." 

"I  don't  know  you  tonight,"  she  said  sadly.  "It 
almost  seems  as  though  you  were  trying  to  get  rid 
of  me." 

He  clasped  her  tightly  in  his  arms  and  kissed  her 
gently. 

"God  forbid,"  he  muttered. 

"Then  tell  me  what  it  is  that  is  worrying  you,"  she 
whispered.  "Not  a  living  soul  shall  ever  know.  What 
were  the  threats  of  exposure  that  passed  between  you 
and  Rizzio.  He  can't  bear  you  any  illwill  because  I 
chose  you  instead  of  him.  I  didn't  mean  to  listen  bilt 


RICE-PAPERS 


I  couldn't  help  it.  What  was  the  menace  in  his  tone 
to  you?  What  is  the  danger  that  hangs  over  you  that 
puts  you  in  his  power?  It's  my  right  to  know.  Tell 
me,  Cyril.  Tell  me." 

She  felt  the  pressure  of  the  arm  around  her  relax 
and  the  sudden  rigidity  of  his  whole  body  as  he  drew 
away. 

"I  think  you  must  have  been  mistaken  in  what 
you  say  you  heard,"  he  said  evenly.  "I  told  you  that 
it  was  a  personal  matter — a  club  matter  in  which  you 
couldn't  possibly  be  interested." 

They  were  speaking  formally  now,  almost  as  stran- 
gers. She  felt  the  indifference  in  his  tone  and  couldn't 
restrain  the  bitterness  that  rose  in  hers. 

"One  gentleman  doesn't  threaten  a  club-mate  with 
exposure  in  a  club  matter  unless — unless  he  has  done 
something  discreditable — something  dishonorable " 

The  Honorable  Cyril  bent  his  head. 

"You  have  guessed,"  he  said.  "He — he  is  jealous. 
He  wants  to  humiliate  me." 

She  laughed  miserably.  "Then  why  did  you  threaten 
him?" 

"I  had  to  defend  myself." 

"You!  Dishonorable!  I'll  have  to  have  proofs  of 
that.  What  are  the  papers  you  have  that  he  wants? 
And  what  is  there  incriminating  in  Rizzio's  card-case? 
You  see,  I  heard  everything." 

"What  else  did  you  hear?"  he  asked  quickly. 

She  drew  away  from  him  and  sank  back  heavily  in 
her  corner. 

"Nothing,"  she  muttered.     "Isn't  that  enough?" 

It  seemed  to  the  girl  as  though  her  companion's 
figure  relaxed  a  little.  And  he  turned  toward  her 
gently. 

37 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


"Don't  bother  about  me.  I'm  not  worth  bothering 
about.  The  worst  of  it  is  that  I  can't  make  any  ex- 
planation— at  least  any  that  will  satisfy  you.  All  I 
ask  is  that  you  have  patience  with  me  if  you  can,  trust 
me  if  you  can,  and  try  to  forget — try  to  forget  what 
you  have  heard.  If  you  should  mention  my  conver-j 
sation  with  Rizzio  it  might  lead  to  grave  consequences 
for  him — for  me." 

The  girl  listened  as  though  in  a  nightmare,  the 
suspicions  that  had  been  slowly  gathering  in  her  brain 
throughout  the  evening  now  focusing  upon  him  from 
every  incident  with  a  persistence  that  was  not  to  be 
denied.  The  shape  sat  between  them  again,  more  tan- 
gible, more  cold  and  cruel  than  before.  All  his  ex- 
cuses, all  his  explanations  gave  it  substance  and  re- 
ality. The  phantom  of  their  dead  hopes  it  had  been 
before — now  it  was  something  more  sinister — some- 
thing that  put  all  thoughts  of  the  Cyril  she  knew  from 
her  mind — the  shade  of  Judas  fawning  for  his  pieces 
of  silver — a  pale  Judas  in  a  monocle  .  .  .  She  closed 
her  eyes  again  and  tried  to  think.  Cyril!  It  was 
unbelievable  .  .  .  And  a  moment  ago  he  had  kissed 
her.  She  felt  again  the  touch  of  his  lips  on  her  fore- 
head ...  It  seemed  as  though  she  too  were  being 
betrayed. 

"You  ask  something  very  difficult  of  me,"  she  stam- 
mered chokingly. 

"I  can  only  ask,"  he  said,  "and  only  hope  that  you'll 
take  my  word  for  its  importance." 

She  shivered  in  her  corner.  The  sound  of  his  voice 
was  so  impersonal,  so  different  from  the  easy  banter- 
ing tone  to  which  she  was  accustomed,  that  it  seemed 
that  what  he  had  said  was  true — that  she  did  not  know 
him. 

38 


RICE-PAPERS 


Another  surprise  awaited  her,  for  he  leaned  forward, 
peering  into  the  mirror  beside  the  wind  shield  in  front 
of  Stryker  and  turned  and  looked  quickly  out  of  the 
rear  window  of  the  car.  Then  she  heard  his  voice  in 
quick  peremptory  notes  through  the  speaking-tube. 

"There's  a  car  behind  us.     Lose  it." 

The  driver  touched  his  cap  and  she  felt  the  machine 
leap  forward.  The  thin  stream  of  light  far  in  front 
of  them  played  on  the  gray  road  and  danced  on  the 
dim  facades  of  unlighted  houses  which  emerged  from 
the  obscurity,  slid  by  and  were  lost  again  as  the  car 
twisted  and  turned,  rocking  from  side  to  side,  moving 
ever  more  rapidly  toward  the  open  country  to  the 
north.  The  dark  corners  of  cross  streets  menaced 
for  a  moment  and  were  gone.  A  reflector  gleamed  from 
one,  but  they  went  by  it  without  slowing,  the  signal 
shrieking.  A  flash  full  upon  them,  a  sound  of  voices 
cursing  in  the  darkness  and  the  danger  was  passed! 
At  the  end  of  a  long  piece  of  straight  road  Cyril 
turned  again  and  reached  for  the  speaking-tube.  But 
his  voice  was  quite  cool. 

"They're  coming  on.     Faster,  Stryker." 

And  faster  they  went.  They  had  reached  the  region 
of  semi-detached  villas  and  the  going  was  good.  The 
road  was  a  narrow  ribbon  of  light  reeling  in  upon  its 
spool  with  frightful  rapidity.  The  machine  was  a 
fine  one  and  its  usual  well-ordered  purr  had  grown 
into  a  roar  which  seemed  to  threaten  immediate  dis- 
ruption. 

Doris  sat  rigidly,  clutching  at  the  door  sill  and  seat 
trying  to  adjust  her  braced  muscles  to  the  task  of 
keeping  upright.  But  a  jolt  of  the  car  tore  her  grasp 
loose  and  threw  her  into  Cyril's  arms  and  there  he 
held  her  steadily.  She  was  too  disturbed  to  resist,  and 

39 


lay  quietly,  conscious  of  the  strength  of  the  long  arms 
that  enfolded  her  and  aware  in  spite  of  herself  of  a 
sense  of  exhilaration  and  triumph.  Triumph  with 
Cyril!  What  triumph — over  whom?  It  didn't  seem 
to  matter  just  then  whom  he  was  trying  to  escape. 
She  seemed  very  safe  in  his  arms  and  very  contented 
though  the  car  rocked  ominously,  while  its  headlight 
whirled  drunkenly  in  a  wild  orbit  of  tossed  shadows. 
The  sportswoman  in  her  responded  to  the  call  of  speed, 
the  chance  of  accident,  the  danger  of  capture — for  she 
felt  sure  now  that  there  was  a  danger  to  Cyril.  Over 
her  shoulder  she  saw  the  lights  of  the  pursuing  ma- 
chine, glowing  unblinkingly  as  though  endowed  with  a 
persistence  which  couldn't  know  failure.  Under  the 
light  of  an  incandescent  she  saw  that  its  lines  were 
those  of  a  touring-car  and  realized  the  handicap  of 
the  heavy  car  with  its  limousine  body.  But  Stryker 
was  doing  his  best,  running  with  a  wide  throttle  pick- 
ing his  road  with  a  skill  which  would  have  done  credit 
to  Cyril  himself.  The  heath  was  already  behind  them. 
At  Hendon,  having  gained  a  little,  Stryker  put  out  his 
lights  and  turned  into  a  by-road  hoping  to  slip  away 
in  the  darkness,  but  as  luck  would  have  it  the  moon 
was  bright  and  in  a  moment  they  saw  the  long  spoke  of 
light  swing  in  behind  them. 

"Good  driver,  that  Johnny,"  she  heard  her  compan- 
ion say  in  a  note  of  admiration  to  Stryker.  "Have 
to  run  for  it  again." 

The  road  was  not  so  good  here  and  they  lost  time 
without  the  searchlights,  so  Stryker  turned  them  on 
again.  This  evasion  of  the  straight  issue  of  speed  had 
been  a  confession  of  weakness  and  the  other  car  seemed 
to  realize  it,  for  it  came  on  at  increased  speed  which 
shortened  the  distance  so  that  the  figures  of  th'*  occu- 

40 


RICE-PAPERS 


pants  of  the  other  were  plainly  discernible,  five  men  in 
all,  huddled  low. 

A  good  piece  of  road  widened  the  distance.  The 
limousine,  now  thoroughly  warmed,  was  doing  the  best 
that  she  was  capable  of  and  the  tires  Cyril  told  her 
were  all  new.  Her  question  seemed  to  give  him  an  idea, 
for  he  reached  for  the  flower  vase  and,  thrusting  out 
a  hand,  jerked  it  back  into  the  road. 

"A  torn  tire  might  help  a  little,"  he  said. 

But  the  fellow  behind  swerved  and  came  faster. 

It  was  now  a  test  of  metal.  Their  pursuer  lagged  a 
little  on  the  levels  but  caught  them  on  the  grades  and, 
barring  an  accident,  it  was  doubtful  whether  they 
would  reach  the  gates  of  Ashwater  Park  safely.  She 
heard  a  reflection  of  this  in  Cyril's  voice  as  he  shouted 
through  the  open  front  window. 

"How  far  by  the  road,  Stryker?" 

"Five  miles,  I'd  say,  sir." 

"Give  her  all  she  can  take." 

Stryker  nodded  and  from  a  hill  crest  they  seemed  to 
soar  into  space.  The  car  shivered  and  groaned  like  a 
stricken  thing,  but  kept  on  down  the  hill  without  the 
touch  of  a  brake.  They  crossed  a  bridge,  rattled  from 
side  to  side.  Cyril  steadied  the  girl  in  his  arms  and 
held  her  tight. 

"Are  you  frightened?"  he  asked  her. 

"No.    But  what  is  it  all  about?" 

Her  companion  glanced  back  to  where  the  long 
beams  of  light  were  searching  their  dust.  When  he 
turned  toward  her  his  face  was  grave.  He  held  her 
closely  for  a  moment,  peering  into  her  eyes. 

"Will  you  help  me,  Doris  ?"  she  heard  him  say. 

"But  how?    What  can  I  do,  Cyril?" 

He  hesitated  again,  glancing  over  his  shoulder- 
4  41 


"Bally    nuisance    to    have   to   drive    you    like    this. 

Wouldn't  do  it  if  it  wasn't  most  important 

"Yes " 


"They  want  something  I've  got — 

"Papers?" 

"You'll  laugh  when  I  tell  you.  Most  amusin' — cig- 
arette papers!" 

"Cigarette " 

"That's  all.  I  give  you  my  word.  Here  they  are." 
And  reaching  down  into  his  trousers  pocket  he  pro- 
duced a  little  yellow  packet.  "Cigarette  papers,  that's 
all.  These  chaps  must  be  perishin'  for  a  smoke. 
What?"  he  laughed. 

"But  I  don't  understand." 

"It  isn't  necessary  that  you  should.  Take  my  word 
for  it,  won't  you  ?  It's  what  they  want.  And  I'm  j  oily 
determined  they're  not  goin'  to  get  it." 

"You  want  me  to  help  you?     How?" 

He  looked  back  again  and  the  lights  behind  them 
found  a  reflection  in  his  eyes.  If,  earlier  in  the  even- 
ing she  had  hoped  to  see  him  fully  awake,  she  had  her 
wish  now.  He  was  quite  cool  and  ready  to  take  an 
amused  view  of  things,  but  in  his  coolness  she  felt  a 
new  power,  an  inventiveness,  a  readiness  to  resort  to 
extremes  to  baffle  his  pursuers.  Her  apprehension 
had  grown  with  the  moments.  Who  were  these  men  in 
the  touring-car?  Special  agents  of  Scotland  Yard? 
She  had  never  been  so  doubtful  nor  so  proud  of  him. 
Weighed  in  the  balance  of  emotion  the  woman  in  her 
decided  it.  She  caught  at  his  hand  impulsively. 

"Yes,  I'll  help — if  I  can — whatever  comes." 

He  raised  her  fingers  to  his  lips  and  kissed  them 
gently. 

"Thank  God,"  he  muttered.  "I  knew  you  would." 

42 


RICE-PAPERS 


He  looked  over  his  shoulder  and  then  peered  out  in 
search  of  familiar  land-marks.  They  had  passed  Can- 
ons Hill  and  swung  into  the  main  road  to  Watford.  If 
they  reached  there  safely  they  would  get  to  Ashwater 
Park  which  was  but  a  short  distance  beyond. 

She  heard  him  speaking  again  and  felt  something 
thrust  into  the  palm  of  her  hand. 

"Take  this,"  he  said.  "It's  what  they  want.  They 
mustn't  get  it." 

"But  who  are  they?" 

"I  don't  know.  Except  that  they've  been  sent  by 
Rizzio." 

"Rizzio!" 

"Yes.  He's  not  with  them.  This  sort  of  game  re- 
quires chaps  of  a  different  type." 

"You  mean  that  they " 

"Oh,  don't  be  alarmed.  They  won't  hurt  me  and  of 
course  they  won't  hurt  you.  I'm  going  to  get  you  out 
of  the  way — with  this.  My  success  depends  on  you. 
We'll  drive  past  the  Park  entrance  close  to  wicket 
gate  in  the  hedge  near  the  house.  Just  as  we  stop, 
jump  out,  run  through  and  hide  among  the  shrubbery. 
Your  cloak  is  dark.  They  won't  see  you.  When 
they're  gone,  make  your  way  to  the  house.  It's  a 
chance,  but  I've  got  to  take  it." 

"And  you?"  she  faltered. 

"I'll  get  away.  Don't  worry.  But  the  packet. 
Whatever  happens  don't  let  them  get  the  packet." 

"No,"  she  said  in  a  daze,  "I  won't." 

"Keep  it  for  me,  until  I  come.     But  don't  examine 

it.     It's  quite  unimportant  to  anybody  but  me 

he  laughed,  "that  is,  anybody  but  Rizzio." 

She  stared  straight  in  front  of  her  trying  to  think, 
but  thought  seemed  impossible.  The  speed  had  got 

43 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


into  her  blood  and  she  was  mastered  by  a  spirit 
stronger  tha,n  her  own.  He  held  her  in  his  arms  again 
and  she  gloried  in  the  thought  that  she  could  help 
him.  Whatever  his  cause,  her  heart  and  soul  were 
in  it. 

They  roared  into  Watford  and,  turning  sharp  to 
the  left,  took  the  road  to  Croxley  Green.  The  machine 
hadn't  missed  a  spark  but  the  touring-car  was  creeping 
up — was  so  close  that  its  lights  were  blinding  them. 
Hammersley  leaned  forward  and  gave  a  hurried  order 
to  Stryker.  They  passed  the  Park  gates  at  full  speed 
— the  wicket  gate  was  a  quarter  of  a  mile  beyond. 
Would  they  make  it?  The  touring-car  was  roaring  up 
alongside  but  Stryker  jockeyed  it  into  the  gutter. 
Voices  were  shouting  and  Doris  got  the  gleam  of  some- 
thing in  the  hand  of  a  tall  figure  standing  up  in  the 
other  car.  There  followed  shots — four  of  them — and 
an  ominous  sound  came  from  somewhere  underneath  as 
the  limousine  limped  forward. 

"It's  our  right  rear  tire,"  said  Stryker. 

"Have  we  a  spare  wheel,"  she  heard  Cyril  say. 

"Yes,  sir." 

"When  we  stop  put  it  on  as  quick  as  you  can.  A 
hundred  yards.  Easy — so  and  we're  there,  Stryker. 
Now.  Over  to  the  left  and  give  'em  the  road.  Quick ! 
Now  stop !" 

The  other  machine  came  alongside  at  their  right  and 
the  men  jumped  down  just  as  Cyril  threw  open  the 
left-hand  door  and  Doris  leaped  out  and  went  through 
the  gate  in  the  hedge. 


CHAPTER    IV 

DANGEROUS   SECRETS 

ONCE  within  the  borders  of  her  father's  estate 
and  hidden  in  a  clump  of  bushes  near  the 
hedge,  all  idea  of  flight  left  Doris's  head.  She 
was  home  and  the  familiar  scene  gave  her  confidence. 
From  the  middle  of  her  clump  of  bushes  grew  a  spruce 
tree,  and  into  it  she  quickly  climbed  until  she  reached  a 
point  where  she  could  see  the  figures  in  the  road  beside 
the  quivering  machines.  She  had  not  been  followed. 
The  five  men  were  gathered  around  Cyril,  who  was 
protesting  violently  at  the  outrage.  They  had  not 
missed  her  yet.  Stryker  was  on  his  knees  beside  the 
stricken  wheel. 

"Come,  now,"  she  heard  the  leader  saying,  "you're 
not  to  be  hurt  if  you'll  give  'em  up." 

"Why,  old  chap,  you're  mad,"  Cyril  was  saying 
coolly.  "I  was  thinkin'  you  wanted  my  watch.  You 
chase  me  twenty  miles  in  the  dead  of  night  and  then 
ask  me  for  cigarette  papers.  You're  chaffin' — what?" 

"You'll  find  out  soon  enough,"  said  the  tall  man 
gruffly.  "Off  with  his  coat,  Jim  .  .  .  Now  search 
him." 

Cyril  made  no  resistance.  Doris  could  see  his  face 
quite  plainly.  He  was  smiling. 

"Rum  go,  this,"  he  said  with  a  puzzled  air.  "I  only 
smoke  made  cigarettes,  you  know." 

But  they  searched  him  thoroughly,  even  taking  off 
his  shoes. 

45 


THE  YELLOW  DOFE 


"I  say,  stop  it,"  she  heard  him  laugh.  "You're 
ticklin'." 

"Shut  up,  d — n  you,"  said  the  tall  man,  with  a 
scowl. 

"Right-o !"  said  Cyril,  cheerfully.  "But  you're  wast- 
in'  time." 

They  found  that  out  in  a  while  and  the  leader  of 
the  men  straightened.  Suddenly  he  gave  a  sound  of 
triumph. 

"The  girl!"  he  cried  and,  rushing  to  the  limousine, 
threw  open  the  door. 

"Gone!"  he  shouted  excitedly.  "She  can't  be  far. 
Find  her," 

He  rushed  around  the  rear  wheels  of  the  limousine 
and  for  the  first  time  spied  the  gate  in  the  hedge. 

"Tricked,  by  God!     In  after  her,  some  of  you." 

"It  won't  do  a  bit  of  good,"  remarked  Cyril.  He 
was  sitting  in  the  dirt  of  the  middle  of  the  road  near 
the  front  wheels  of  the  machines.  "She  doesn't  smoke, 
o'  chap.  Bad  taste,  I  call  it,  gettin'  a  lady  mixed  up 
in  a  hunt  for  cigarettes.  Besides  she's  almost  home  by 
this.  The  house  isn't  far.  She  lives  there,  you  know." 

In  her  tree  Doris  trembled.  She  was  well  screened 
by  the  branches  and  she  heard  the  crackle  of  footsteps 
in  the  dry  leaves  as  the  searchers  beat  the  bushes  be- 
low her,  but  they  passed  on,  following  the  path  toward 
the  house.  As  the  sounds  diminished  in  the  distance 
she  saw  Cyril  still  seated  on  the  ground  leaning  against 
the  front  wheels  of  the  touring-car  while  he  argued  and 
cajoled  the  men  nearest  him.  Helping  himself  by  a 
wheel  as  he  arose  he  faced  the  tall  man  who  had  come 
up  waving  his  revolver  and  uttering  wild  threats. 

"It  won't  help  matters  calling  me  a  lot  of  names," 
said  Cyril,  brushing  the  dust  from  his  clothes.  "You 

46 


DANGEROUS  SECRETS 


want  something  I  haven't  got — that's  flat.  I  hope 
you're  satisfied." 

"Not  yet.  They'll  bring  the  girl  in  a  minute.  She 
can't  have  gone  far." 

Cyril  glanced  around  him  carelessly  and  brushed 
his  clothes  again. 

He  had  discovered  that  Stryker  had  put  on  the 
spare  wheel  and  was  parleying  with  one  of  their  cap- 
tors. 

"Oh,  very  well.  Have  your  way.  What  more  can 
I  do  for  you?  If  you  don't  mind  I'd  like  to  be  go- 
ing on." 

"You'll  wait  for  the  girl — here." 

Doris  watched  Stryker  skulking  along  in  the  shadow 
of  the  limousine.  She  saw  him  reach  his  seat,  heard  a 
grinding  of  the  clutches  and  a  confused  scuffle  out  of 
which,  his  blond  hair  disheveled,  his  shoulders  coatless, 
Cyril  emerged  and  leaped  for  the  running-board  of 
the  moving  machine. 

"You  forgot  to  search  the  limousine,"  she  heard  him 
shout. 

The  tall  man  scrambled  to  his  knees  and  fired  at  the 
retreating  machine  while  the  others  jumped  for  the 
touring-car. 

It  had  no  sooner  begun  to  move  than  there  was  a 
sound  of  escaping  air  and  an  oath  from  the  chauffeur. 

"A  puncture,"  someone  said.  And  Doris  heard  a 
volley  of  curses  which  spoke  eloquently  of  the  sharp- 
ness of  Cyril's  pocket-knife. 

Doris  in  her  hiding-place  breathed  a  sigh  of  relief. 
Cyril  had  gotten  safely  off,  and  his  last  words  had  cre- 
ated a  diversion  in  the  camp  of  the  enemy.  They  were 
working  furiously  at  the  tire,  but  she  knew  that  the 
chance  of  coming  up  with  Cyril  again  that  night  was- 

47 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


gone.  Now  that  the  affair  had  resulted  so  favorably 
to  Cyril  she  began  to  regret  her  imprudence  in  remain- 
ing to  see  the  adventure  to  its  end.  Cyril  had  played 
for  time,  and  if  she  had  followed  his  instructions  she 
could  have  gotten  far  enough  away  to  have  eluded  her 
pursuers.  By  this  time,  in  all  probability,  she  would 
have  been  safe  beneath  the  parental  roof.  The  worst 
of  it  was  that  Cyril  thought  her  safe.  The  packet  in 
her  glove  burned  in  her  hand.  Beneath  her,  some- 
where between  her  refuge  and  the  house  were  two  men, 
and  how  to  pass  them  with  her  precious  possession  be- 
came now  the  sole  object  of  her  thoughts.  Cyril  had 
told  her  that  the  packet  must  under  no  circumstances 
fall  into  the  hands  of  their  pursuers  and  the  desperate- 
ness  of  his  efforts  to  elude  them  gave  her  a  renewed 
sense  of  her  importance  as  an  instrument  for  good  or 
ill  in  Cyril's  cause — whatever  it  might  be.  Now  that 
Cyril  had  gone  she  felt  singularly  helpless  and  small 
in  the  face  of  such  odds.  For  a  moment  she  thought 
of  hiding  the  packet  in  the  crotch  of  one  of  the 
branches  where  she  might  come  and  reclaim  it  at  her 
leisure  and  go  down  and  run  the  chance  of  being  taken 
without  it.  But  the  unpleasantness  which  might  re- 
sult from  such  an  encounter  deterred  her,  and  so  she 
sat,  her  chilly  ankles  depending,  awaiting  she  knew  not 
what.  She  had  almost  reconciled  herself  to  the  thought 
of  spending  several  hours  in  this  uncomfortable  posi- 
tion when  the  tall  man  in  the  road  blew  a  blast  on  a 
sporting  whistle  and  soon  the  passing  of  footsteps 
through  the  gate  advised  her  that  the  men  inside  the 
grounds  had  returned. 

This  was  her  opportunity,  and  without  waiting  to 
listen  she  dropped  quietly  down  on  the  side  of  the  tree 
away  from  the  gate  and,  stealing  furtively  along  in 

48 


DANGEROUS  SECRETS 


the  shadow  of  the  hedge,  made  her  way  as  quickly  as 
possible  in  the  direction  of  the  house.  Out  of  breath 
with  exercise  and  excitement,  when  she  reached  a  patch 
of  trees  at  the  edge  of  the  lawn,  she  stopped  and  looked 
behind  her.  Then  she  blessed  her  luck  in  coming  down 
when  she  did,  for  she  saw  the  thin  ray  of  a  pocket 
light  gleaming  like  a  will-o'-the-wisp  in  her  place  of 
concealment  and  knew  that  the  search  for  her  was 
still  on. 

Fear  lent  her  caution.  She  skirted  the  edge  of  the 
wide  lawn  in  the  shadow  of  the  trees,  running  like  a  deer 
across  the  moonlit  spaces,  always  keeping  the  masses 
of  evergreens  between  her  and  the  wicket  gate  until 
she  reached  the  flower  garden,  where  she  paused  a  mo- 
ment to  get  her  breath.  A  patch  of  moonlight  lay  be- 
tween her  and  the  entrance  and  the  hedge  was  impene- 
trable. There  was  no  other  way.  She  bent  low  and 
hurried  forward,  trusting  to  the  good  fortune  that 
had  so  far  aided  her.  Halfway  across  the  open  she 
heard  a  shout  and  knew  that  she  had  been  seen. 

There  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  run  straight  for  the 
house.  So  catching  her  skirts  up  above  her  knees  and 
scorning  the  garden  path  which  would  have  taken  her 
a  longer  way,  she  made  straight  for  the  terrace,  the 
main  door  of  which  she  knew  had  been  left  open  for  her 
return.  Across  the  wide  lawn  in  the  bright  moonlight 
she  ran,  her  heart  throbbing  madly,  the  precious  yel- 
low packet  clutched  tightly  against  her  palm.  Out 
of  the  tail  of  her  eye  she  saw  dark  forms  emerge  from 
the  bushes  and  run  diagonally  for  the  terrace  steps  in 
the  hope  of  intercepting  her.  But  she  was  fast,  and 
she  blessed  her  tennis  for  the  wind  and  muscle  to  stand 
the  strain.  She  was  much  nearer  her  goal  than  her 
pursuers,  but  they  came  rapidly,  their  bulk  looming 

49 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


larger  every  moment.  She  saw  the  lights  and  knew 
that  servants  were  at  hand.  Her  father,  too,  was  in 
the  library,  for  she  saw  the  glow  of  his  reading-lamp. 
She  had  only  to  shout  for  help  now  and  someone  would 
hear  her.  She  tried  to,  but  not  a  sound  came  from  her 
parching  throat.  With  a  last  effort  she  raced  up  the 
terrace  steps,  pushed  open  the  heavy  door  and  shut 
and  bolted  it  quickly  behind  her.  Then  sank  into  the 
nearest  piece  of  furniture  in  a  state  of  physical  col- 
lapse. 

Doris  Mather  did  not  faint,  an  act  which  might 
readily  have  been  forgiven  her  under  the  circumstances. 
Her  nerves  were  shaken  by  the  violence  of  her  exercise 
and  the  narrowness  of  her  escape,  and  it  was  some  mo- 
ments before  she  could  reply  to  the  anxious  questions 
that  were  put  to  her.  Then  she  answered  evasively, 
peering  through  the  windows  at  the  moonlit  lawn  and 
seeing  no  sign  of  her  pursuers.  In  a  few  moments  she 
drank  a  glass  of  water  and  took  the  arm  of  Wilson, 
her  maid,  up  the  stairway  to  her  rooms,  after  giving 
orders  to  the  servants  that  her  father  was  not  to  be 
told  anything  except  that  she  had  come  in  very  tired 
and  had  gone  directly  to  bed. 

For  the  present  at  least  Cyril's  packet  was  safe. 
In  her  dressing-room  Wilson  took  off  her  cloak  and 
helped  her  into  bedroom  slippers,  not,  however,  with- 
out a  comment  on  the  bedraggled  state  of  her  dinner 
dress  and  the  shocking  condition  of  her  slippers.  But 
Doris  explained  with  some  care  that  Mr.  Hammersley's 
machine  had  had  a  blow-out  near  the  wicket  gate,  that 
she  had  become  frightened  and  had  run  all  the  way 
across  the  lawn.  All  of  which  was  true.  It  didn't 
explain  Mr.  Hammersley's  deficiencies  as  an  escort, 
but  Wilson  was  too  well  trained  to  presume  further. 

50 


DANGEROUS  SECRETS 


A  little  sherry  and  a  biscuit  and  Doris  revived  rap- 
idly. While  the  maid  drew  her  bath  she  locked  Cyril's 
cigarette  papers  in  the  drawer  of  the  desk  in  her  bed- 
room, and  when  she  was  bathed  and  ready  for  the 
night  she  dismissed  Wilson  to  her  dressing-room  to 
wait  within  call  until  she  had  gone  to  bed. 

Alone  with  her  thoughts,  her  first  act  was  to  turn 
out  her  lights  and  kneel  in  the  window  where  she  could 
peer  .out  through  the  hangings.  It  was  inconceivable 
that  her  pursuers  would  dare  to  make  any  attempt 
upon  the  house,  but  even  now  she  wondered  whether  it 
would  not  have  been  wiser  if  she  had  taken  her  father 
into  her  confidence  and  had  the  gardeners  out  to  keep 
an  eye  open  for  suspicious  characters.  But  the  mo- 
tives that  had  kept  her  silent  downstairs  in  the  hall 
were  even  stronger  with  her  now.  She  could  not  have 
borne  to  discuss  with  her  father,  who  had  an  extraordi- 
nary talent  for  getting  at  the  root  of  difficulties,  the 
subject  of  Cyril's  questionable  packet  of  cigarette 
papers.  She  was  quite  sure,  from  the  adventure  which 
had  befallen  them  tonight,  and  the  mystery  with  which 
Cyril  had  chosen  to  invest  the  article  committed  to 
her  care,  that  Cyril  himself  would  not  have  approved 
of  any  course  which  would  have  brought  the  packet  or 
his  own  actions  into  the  light  of  publicity. 

The  packet  of  cigarette  papers !  With  a  last  scru- 
tiny of  the  landscape  she  pulled  the  shades  and  hang- 
ings so  that  no  ray  of  light  could  reach  the  outside  of 
the  house,  then  groped  her  way  across  the  room.  A 
thin  line  of  light  beneath  the  door  of  her  dressing- 
room  showed  that  Wilson  was  still  there.  So  she  took 
the  precaution  of  locking  that  door  as  well  as  the  oth- 
ers leading  to  the  upstairs  hall,  then  went  to  her  desk 
and  turned  on  her  lamp.  She  unlocked  the  drawer  of 

51 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


the  desk  and  taking  the  small  object  gingerly  in  her 
fingers,  scrutinized  it  carefully.  It  was  yellow  in 
color,  quite  new,  bound  with  a  small  rubber  band,  a 
very  prosaic,  a  very  harmless  looking  object  to  have 
caused  so  much  excitement  and  trouble  to  all  who  had 
been  concerned  about  it.  She  turned  it  over  and 
stretched  its  rubber  band,  snapping  it  thoughtfully 
two  or  three  times.  Now  for  the  first  time  since  Cyril 
had  given  it  to  her  did  she  permit  herself  to  think  of 
the  hidden  meanings  the  thing  might  possess.  In  the 
machine,  during  the  chase  Cyril  had  won  her  unre- 
servedly to  his  side.  As  against  the  mysterious  men 
of  John  Rizzio  Cyril's  cause  had  been  the  only  one  to 
be  considered.  She  had  been  carried  off  her  feet  and 
there  hadn't  been  time  to  think  of  anything  but  the 
real  necessity  of  acceding  to  Cyril's  wishes  in  getting 
the  small  object  to  a  place  of  safety.  Then  it  had  only 
been  a  packet  of  cigarette  papers — a  mere  package  of 
Riz-la-Croix  which  everybody,  for  some  reason  or 
other,  seemed  to  want.  Now,  weighed  lightly  in  her 
hand,  the  seclusion  of  her  room  gave  it  a  different 
character.  She  recalled  Cyril's  bantering  tone  at  hav- 
ing been  chased  twenty  miles  for  a  cigarette.  But  his 
attitude  deceived  Doris  no  more  than  it  had  his  pur- 
suers. There  was  material  here  for  something  more 
deadly  than  cigarettes.  She  took  the  yellow  packet 
in  both  hands  and  pressed  it  to  her  temples  as  though 
by  this  act  she  could  pass  its  secrets  into  her  own 
brain.  In  spite  of  herself  she  was  frightfully  curious 
and  frightfully  afraid. 

She  got  up  and  paced  the  floor  rapidly.  No — it 
couldn't  go  on.  She  must  know  the  truth.  As  the  key 
of  the  one  unopened  room  fascinated  Blue  Beard's  wife, 
as  the  box  fascinated  Pandora,  so  this  unopened  yellow 

52 


DANGEROUS  SECRETS 


packet  plagued  a'jd  fascinated  Doris  Mather.  She 
hesitated  another  long  moment  and  then  slipped  off  the 
rubber  band  and  opened  it,  trembling  so  that  the  first 
leaf  of  paper  came  out  in  her  fingers  and  fell  to  the 
floor.  She  picked  the  paper  up  and  examined  it  min- 
utely, holding  it  up  to  the  light.  There  was  nothing 
unusual  about  it,  no  mark,  no  sign  of  any  kind  that 
might  indicate  a  secret  mission.  Leaf  by  leaf,  slowly 
at  first  and  then  more  rapidly  she  went  through  the 
leaves,  examining  each  page  back  and  front,  without 
success.  It  was  not  until  she  was  almost  half  through 
it  that  she  came,  upon  the  writing — four  pages  written 
lengthways  in  ink  with  a  line  too  fine  almost  for  legi- 
bility. 

She  put  the  packet  down  for  a  moment,  her  heart 
throbbing  with  excitement  and  incredulity,  too  appre- 
hensive to  read,  in  mortal  dread  of  a  revelation  which 
was  to  change  the  whole  course  of  her  life  and  Cyril's. 
There  was  still  time  to  close  the  book  and  go  to  bed. 
Why  did  she  sit  there  holding  the  thing  open,  stupidly 
gazing  at  nothing?  If  Cyril 

Yes,  if  Cyril  was  the  unspeakable  thing  of  her 
doubts,  it  was  time  that  she  knew  it  and  no  compunc- 
tions of  honor  should  hold  her  with  such  a  man.  Be- 
sides she  had  promised  him  nothing.  Hesitating  no 
longer,  she  held  the  leaves  under  the  light  of  her  lamp 
and  slowly  deciphered  the  thin  script. 

At  first  she  could  make  little  of  it,  as  it  seemed  to 
consist  of  numerals  which  she  couldn't  understand, 
but  here  and  there  she  made  out  the  names  of  towns, 
the  names  of  regiments  familiar  to  her  and  a  series  of 
dates,  beginning  in  March  and  ending  in  May.  As  the 
meaning  of  the  writing  grew  clearer  to  her,  she  read 
on,  her  eyes  distended  with  horror.  Even  a  child  could 

53 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


have  seen  that  this  was  a  list  of  the  British  forces 
under  arms,  the  proposed  dates  for  the  completion  of 
their  equipment,  training  and  departure  for  France. 
When  she  had  finished  reading  the  written  pages,  her 
inert  fingers  slowly  turned  the  blank  papers  over  to 
the  end.  There  was  nothing  more.  God  knows  it  was 
enough!  Cyril — the  Honorable  Cyril — a  spy  of  the 
Germans ! 

She  sank  low  in  her  armchair,  her  senses  numb  from 
the  horror  of  the  revelation.  Her  thoughts  became 
confused  like  those  of  a  sick  person  awaking  from  a 
nightmare  to  a  half  consciousness,  peopled  with 
strange  beautiful  images  doing  the  dark  things  of 
dreams.  Cyril — her  Cyril — a  spy! 

What  would  happen  now.  And  which  way  did  duty 
lie?  Toward  England  or  toward  Cyril?  She  sat 
crouched  on  the  floor  in  an  agony  of  misery  at  the 
thought  of  Cyril's  baseness,  the  package  of  paper 
clenched  in  her  hand,  trying  to  think  clearly  for  Eng- 
land, for  Cyril,  for  herself,  but  the  longer  she  battled 
the  deeper  became  her  desperation  and  despair. 

The  world  seemed  to  be  slipping  away  from  her,  the 
orderly  arrangement  of  her  thoughts  was  twisted  and 
distorted  so  that  wrong  had  become  right  and  right 
wrong.  She  had  lost  her  standard  of  judgment.  She 
did  not  know  which  way  to  turn,  so  she  bent  her  head 
forward  into  her  hands  and  silently  prayed.  There 
seemed  to  be  nothing  else  to  do.  For  a  long  while  she 
remained  prostrate  by  the  window,  her  brain  tortured, 
her  body  stiff  with  weariness,  until  she  could  think  no 
more.  Then  slowly  and  painfully  she  rose  and,  still 
clutching  the  yellow  packet,  groped  her  way  to  bed, 
into  which  she  fell  exhausted  in  mind  and  body. 


CHAPTER   V 

THE    PURSUIT   CONTINUES 

AT  eight  o'clock  Doris  was  awakened  by  a  loud 
knocking  on  the  door  leading  to  her  dressing- 
room.  She  had  slept  the  sleep  of  utter  ex- 
haustion and  aroused  herself  with  difficulty,  a  little  be- 
wildered at  the  unusual  sounds.  Then  she  dimly  re- 
membered locking  the  door  and  got  quickly  out  of  bed, 
put  the  yellow  packet  in  the  drawer  of  her  desk  and 
pushed  back  the  bolt  of  the  door. 

To  her  surprise  her  father  confronted  her  and  be- 
hind him  were  other  members  of  the  family  in  various 
stages  of  their  morning  toilets. 

"Thank  the  Lord,"  said  David  Mather  with  a  sigh 
of  relief. 

"What  on  earth  is  the  matter?"  asked  the  girl, 
glancing  from  one  to  the  other  in  alarm. 

Her  father  laughed.  "Oh,  nothing,  now  that  you're 
all  right.  Burglars,  that's  all." 

Doris's  heart  stopped  beating  as  in  a  flash  of  re- 
viving memory  the  incidents  of  the  night  before  came 
quickly  back  to  her. 

"Burglars !"  she  stammered. 

"Yes,  they  got  in  here — came  up  the  water  spout," 
pointing  to  the  dressing-room  window,  "and  a  fine  mess 
they  made  of  things.  You'll  have  to  take  account  of 
stock,  child,  and  see  how  you  stand." 

She  glanced  around  the  disordered  room,  very  much 
alarmed.  The  drawers  of  her  cupboards  were  all 

55 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


pulled  out  and  their  contents  scattered  about  on  the 
floor. 

"When  did — did  it  happen?"  she  asked  timorously, 
more  because  she  had  to  say  something  than  because 
that  was  what  she  wanted  to  know. 

"Some  time  before  dawn,"  said  her  father.  "Wil- 
son was  here  until  three  thinking  that  you  might  want 
her  and  then  went  out  to  her  own  room  in  the  wing." 

"Yes,  I  remember,"  said  the  girl,  passing  her  hand 
across  her  eyes.  "I  wasn't  feeling  very  well — so  I 
asked  her  to  stay  here  for  a  while.  But  I  can't  under- 
stand why  I  didn't  wake." 

"That's  what  frightened  us,"  Cousin  Tom  broke  in. 
"We  were  afraid  the  snoozers  might  have  got  in  to 
you " 

"It's  lucky  you  had  your  door  locked." 

"They  were  at  my  library  desk,  too,"  she  heard  her 
father  saying.  "Must  have  gone  down  the  hall  from 
here.  But  so  far  as  I  can  see,  they  didn't  get  any- 
thing." 

Her  Aunt  Sophia  gasped  a  sigh. 

"Thank  the  Lord,"  she  put  in  reverently.  "At  least 
we're  all  safe  and  sound." 

Stunned  at  the  daring  of  Rizzio's  men  and  bewil- 
dered by  the  persistence  with  which  they  had  followed 
their  quest  while  she  was  sleeping,  Doris  managed  to 
formulate  a  quick  plan  to  hide  the  meaning  of  this 
intrusion  from  the  members  of  her  family. 

She  had  been  examining  the  disordered  contents  of 
the  upper  drawers  of  a  bureau. 

"My  jewel  case,  fortunately,  I  keep  in  my  bed- 
room," she  said,  "but  there  was  an  emerald  brooch  to 
be  repaired  which  I  put  in  this  drawer  yesterday.  It's 
gone." 

56 


THE  PURSUIT  CONTINUES 

She  saw  a  puzzled  look  come  into  the  eyes  of  Wilson, 
who  stood  near  the  window,  and  a  glance  passed  be- 
tween them. 

"Oh,  well,"  her  father  said  as  he  turned  toward  the 
door,  "we're  lucky  it  wasn't  worse.  I'm  'phoning  to 
Watford  for  a  constable." 

This  was  what  Doris  had  feared  and  yet  she  could 
not  protest.  So  she  shut  her  lips  firmly  and  let  them 
go  out  of  the  room,  leaving  her  alone  with  Wilson. 

She  knew  that  the  woman  was  devoted  to  her  and 
that  she  was  not  in  the  habit  of  talking  belowstairs, 
but  her  mistress  had  seen  the  look  of  incredulity  in  the 
woman's  eyes  last  night  and  the  puzzled  expression  a 
moment  ago  which  indicated  a  suspicion  connecting 
Doris's  arrival  in  the  Hall  with  the  mysterious  en- 
trance of  the  dressing-room.  Doris  knew  that  she 
must  tell  her  something  that  would  satisfy  her  curi- 
osity. 

"My  bath  please,  Wilson,"  she  said  coolly  in  order 
to  gain  time.  "And  say  nothing,  you  understand." 

"Of  course,  Miss  Mather,"  said  Wilson,  with  her 
broad  Kentish  smile.  "I  wouldn't  ha'  dreamed  of  it." 

The  cool  water  refreshed  and  invigorated  the  girl, 
and  she  planned  skillfully.  By  the  time  Wilson 
brought  her  breakfast  tray  she  had  already  wrapped 
the  yellow  packet  of  cigarette  papers  and  her  Cousin 
Tom's  tobacco  pouch  in  a  pair  of  silk  stockings  sur- 
rounded by  many  thicknesses  of  paper  and  in  a  dis- 
guised handwriting  had  addressed  it  to  Lady  Heath- 
cote  at  her  place  in  Scotland.  She  had  also  written 
a  note  to  Betty  advising  her  of  a  change  in  plans  and 
of  her  intention  to  come  to  her  upon  the  following  day, 
asking  in  a  postscript  twice  underlined  to  keep  a  cer- 
tain package  addressed  to  her  and  carefully  described 
5  57 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


safely  under  lock  and  key  for  her  without  opening 
until  her  arrival.  She  would  explain  later. 

A  gleam  of  hope  had  penetrated  to  her  through  the 
gloom  that  encompassed  her  thoughts — only  a  gleam 
at  the  best,  but  it  was  enough  to  give  her  courage  to  go 
on  with  her  efforts  to  save  Cyril  from  immediate  dan- 
ger. And  this  was  the  belief  born  of  the  forcible  and 
secret  entry  of  the  house  that  the  men  who  were  in 
pursuit  of  the  fateful  packet  were  not  in  any  way  con- 
nected with  Scotland  Yard  or  the  War  Office.  Other- 
wise if  they  believed  the  papers  to  be  in  her  possession 
they  would  have  come  boldly  in  the  light  of  day  and 
demanded  of  her  father  the  right  to  search  the  house. 
These  were  not  times  when  the  War  Office  hesitated  in 
matters  which  concerned  the  public  interest.  John 
Rizzio,  for  some  reason  which  she  could  not  fathom, 
was  acting  upon  his  own  initiative  with  a  desire  as 
urgent  as  Cyril's  to  keep  his  object  secret. 

She  pondered  those  things  for  a  long  while  and  then 
with  a  sigh  of  uncertainty  dismissed  them  from  her 
thoughts,  which  were  too  full  of  the  immediate  neces- 
sity to  carry  out  her  carefully  formulated  plans.  First 
she  called  Wilson  and  after  assuring  herself  that  she 
was  making  no  mistake,  took  her  partially  into  confi- 
dence, telling  her  of  the  important  paper  intrusted  by 
Mr.  Hammersley  to  her  care  which  it  was  to  the  in- 
terest of  other  persons  to  possess  and  the  necessity  for 
getting  them  safely  out  of  the  house.  Her  mistress's 
confidences  flattered  the  maid  and  she  entered  very 
willingly  into  the  affair,  concealing  the  emerald  brooch 
which  Doris  produced  from  her  jewel  box,  in  a  trunk 
containing  old  clothes  which  had  long  stood  neglected 
in  a  dusty  corner  of  the  attic. 

After  the  visit  of  the  man  from  Watford,  who  went 

58 


THE  PURSUIT  CONTINUES 

over  the  situation  with  a  puzzled  brow  and  depart- 
ed still  puzzled,  she  confided  to  her  father  the  let- 
ter and  package  which  were  to  be  mailed  from  Lon- 
don, the  letter  in  the  morning,  the  package  not  until 
night. 

"Don't  fail  me,  daddy.     It's  very  important " 

she  said  as  she  kissed  him.  "It's  a  surprise  for  Betty, 
but  it  mustn't  get  to  Scotland  until  tomorrow  night 

at  the  earliest.     And  good-by "     And  she  kissed 

him  again.     "I'm  going  with  it." 

"Tonight?" 

"Tomorrow." 

Mr.  Mather  smiled  and  pinched  her  cheeks.  He  was 
quite  accustomed  to  sudden  changes  of  plan  on  the 
part  of  his  daughter  and  would  as  soon  have  thought 
of  questioning  them  as  he  would  the  changes  in  the 
weather.  He  hadn't  liked  the  idea  of  her  hunting  or 
playing  polo,  but  she  had  done  them  both  and  cajoled 
him  into  approving1  of  her.  He  had  objected  fearfully 
when  she  went  in  for  aviation,  but  had  learned  to  watch 
the  flights  of  her  little  Nieuport  with  growing  confi- 
dence and  had  even  erected  a  shed  for  her  machines  in 
the  meadow  behind  the  stables. 

"Take  care  of  yourself,"  he  said  lightly.  "You're 
looking  a  little  peaky  lately.  If  you  don't  get  rosier 
I'll  withdraw  my  ambulance  corps." 

She  laughed.  "Don't  forget!"  she  flung  after  him 
as  he  got  into  the  car. 

With  the  departure  of  the  yellow  packet  a  weight 
had  been  lifted  from  Doris's  mind.  John  Rizzio's  men 
might  come  now  if  they  liked — and  she  would  invite 
them  to  search  the  place.  She  was  not  in  the  least 
afraid  of  herself,  and  she  knew  that  the  danger  to 
Cyril  had  passed — at  least  for  the  present. 

59 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


She  hoped  that  Cjril  wouldn't  come  today — or  tele- 
phone her.  She  wanted  time  to  think  of  what  she 
should  say  to  him.  At  moments  it  even  seemed  as 
though  she  didn't  care  if  she  ever  saw  him  again.  But 
as  the  day  passed  and  she  had  no  word  from  him,  she 
grew  anxious.  What  if  Rizzio  had  told  the  War  Of- 
fice! 

That  night  men  from  Watford  kept  a  watch  upon 
the  house,  but  there  was  no  disturbance.  Her  watch- 
ers had  evidently  taken  the  alarm.  But  it  was  in  no 
very  certain  or  very  happy  state  that  Doris  drove  her 
machine  out  of  the  gate  of  the  Park  in  the  later  after- 
noon of  the  next  day  with  her  cousin  Tom  beside  her 
and  Wilson  and  the  luggage  in  the  rear  seat.  The 
main  road  to  London  was  empty  of  vehicles  except  for 
a  man  on  a  motor-cycle  just  ahead  of  her  bound  in  the 
same  direction.  At  least,  she  was  no  longer  to  be 
watched.  There  was  plenty  of  time,  so  she  drove 
leisurely,  reaching  Euston  Station  with  twenty  minutes 
to  spare.  She  sent  a  wire  to  Lady  Heathcote  and 
then  Tom  saw  her  safely  into  her  carriage. 

The  movement  of  the  train  soothed  her  and  she 
closed  her  eyes  and  slept,  Wilson  like  a  watchful  Gor- 
gon, guarding  against  intrusion. 

There  was  but  one  incident  which  destroyed  the 
peace  of  the  journey.  Toward  morning,  Wilson,  who 
slept  with  one  eye  open,  wakened  her  suddenly  and 
asked  her  quietly  to  look  out  of  the  window.  Her 
train  had  stopped  at  a  large  station,  the  platform  of 
which  was  well  lighted.  From  the  darkness  of  their 
compartment  she  followed  the  direction  of  Wilson's 
figure.  Outside,  pacing  the  platform  and  smoking 
cigarettes,  were  two  men. 

"What  is  it?"  asked  Doris,  half  asleep. 

60 


THE  PURSUIT  CONTINUES 

"The  big  one,"  whispered  Wilson  excitedly.  "It 
was  him  that  was  ridin'  the  motor-cycle." 

Doris  remembered  passing  and  repassing  the  vehicle 
on  the  road  to  London,  and  the  face  of  its  driver  came 
back  to  her.  She  peered  out  at  him  eagerly  and  as 
the  man  turned  she  saw  the  face  and  figure  of  the 
larger  man  clearly.  It  was  the  motor-cycle  man,  and 
in  a  rush  the  thought  came  to  her  that  his  figure  and) 
bearing  were  strangely  familiar. 

"It's  true,"  she  whispered,  her  fingers  on  Wilson's 
arm.  "We're  followed.  It's  the  same  man.  Last 
night,  too." 

"Last  night?" 

"Yes.  It's  the  man  called  Jim,  who  searched  Mr. 
Hammersley  in  the  road." 

"No,"  said  Wilson,  her  eyes  brightening.  "You 
don't  say  so,  Miss  Mather.  Of  all  the  brazen " 

"Sh— "  said  Doris. 

But  there  was  no  more  sleep  for  either  of  them  that 
night.  Bolt  upright,  side  by  side,  they  watched  the 
dawn  grow  into  sunrise  and  the  sunrise  into  broad  day. 
They  saw  no  more  of  the  motor-cycle  man  and  Doris 
reassured  herself  that  there  was  nothing  to  be  feared 
now  that  the  packet  was —  She  started  in  affright. 
The  packet  at  Betty  Heathcote's !  Perhaps  at  this  very 
moment  lying  innocently  in  Betty's  post-box  or  in  the 
careless  hands  of  some  stupid  Scotch  gardener,  or 
worse  yet  inviting  curiosity  on  Betty's  desk  or  library 
table.  Her  heart  sank  within  her  as  she  realized  that 
her  brave  plans  might  yet  miscarry. 

It  was  with  a  sense  of  joyous  relief  that  the  train 
pulled  at  last  into  Innerwick  Station.  When  she  got 
down  she  saw  Betty  Heathcote's  yellow  h/ake,  the  four 
chestnuts  restive  in  the  keen  moorland  air,  and  look- 

61 


THE  YELLOW  DOFE 


ing  very  youthful  and  handsome  in  a  brown  coat  which 
made  the  symphony  complete,  the  lady  herself,  the 
wind  in  her  cheeks  and  in  her  cheery  greeting. 

"Of  course,  Doris,  you're  to  be  trusted  to  do  some- 
thing surprising.  Oh,  here's  Jack  Sandys — you  didn't 
know,  of  course." 

The  sight  of  these  familiar  faces  gave  Doris  re- 
newed confidence,  and  when  from  the  box  seat  she 
glanced  around  in  search  of  her  pursuer  he  had  dis- 
appeared. 

Sandys  clambered  up  behind  them.  Wilson  got  into 
the  back  seat  with  the  grooms,  the  boxes  went  in  be- 
tween, and  they  were  off. 

[  "Constance  was  tired,  Jack.  At  least  she  said  she 
jjwas.  I  really  think  that  all  she  wanted  was  to  disap- 
point you.  Nothing  like  disappointment.  It  breeds 
aspiration.  But,"  she  added  mischievously,  "I'm  sure 
she's  dying  to  see  you.  Awf'ly  sad — especially  since 
it's  not  quite  forty-eight  hours  since  you  were  waving 
a  tearful  good-by  in  Euston  Station." 

"Did  you  get  my  package?"  whispered  Doris  in  her 
ear,  at  the  first  opportunity. 

"What  package?  Oh,  yes,  the  stockings.  It  was 
torn  and  awf'ly  muddy.  Higgins  dropped  it  from  the 
dog-cart  on  the  way  over  and  had  to  go  back  for  it. 
Lucky  he  found  it — in  the  middle  of  the  road.  What 
a  silly  thing  to  make  such  a  mystery  of.  And  the 
cigarette  papers — you  might  be  sure  I'd  have  some- 
thing to  smoke  at  Kilmorack  House.  I  can't  under- 
stand. You  really  could  smoke  here  if  you  want  to 
without  so  much  secrecy  about  it." 

"I — I  didn't  know,"  stammered  the  girl.  "I — I've 
just  taken  it  up  and  I  thought  you  mightn't  approve." 

Betty  glanced  at  her  narrowly. 

62 


THE  PURSUIT  CONTINUES 

"Whatever  ails  you,  child  ?  7  disapprove !  You 
know  I  smoke  when  I  feel  like  it — which  isn't  often." 

The  subject  fortunately  was  turned  when  they 
passed  the  road  to  Ben-a-Chielt. 

"I  always  envied  Cyril  his  cliffs.  I  love  the  sva  and 
Cyril  hates  it.  'So  jolly  restless,'  "  she  mimicked  him. 
"Makes  one  'quiggledy.'  And  there  I  am — away  in- 
land— five  miles  to  the  firth  at  the  very  nearest.  But  I 
suppose,"  she  sighed,  "one  has  to  overlook  the  de- 
ficiencies of  one's  grandfather.  If  he  had  known  I'd 
have  liked  the  sea,  Cyril,  of  course,  would  have  come 
into  my  place." 

With  this  kind  of  light  chatter,  of  which  Lady 
Heathcote  possessed  a  fund,  their  whip  drove  them 
upon  their  way,  her  own  fine  spirits  oblivious  of  the 
silence  of  her  companions.  But  at  last  she  glanced 
at  them  suspiciously.  "If  I  didn't  know  that  you  were 
both  hopelessly  in  love  with  other  persons,  I'd  think 
you  were  epris  of  each  other." 

Doris  laughed. 

"We  are.  That's  why  we  chose  opposite  ends  of 
the  train." 

But  Sandys  only  smiled. 

"Nothing  that's  happening  makes  a  chap  happy 
nowadays.  I  bring  bad  news." 

Lady  Heathcote  relaxed  the  reins  so  that  one  of 
her  leaders  plunged  madly,  while  her  face  went  white.  {; 

"Not  Algy " 

"No,  no — forgive  me.  He's  safe.  I've  kept  watch 
of  the  bulletins." 

"Thank  God!"  said  Lady  Heathcote,  and  sent  her 
whiplash  swirling  over  the  ears  of  the  erring  leader. 

"Not  Algy— Byfield " 

"Byfield— not  dead ?" 

63 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


"No.     Worse." 

"What ?" 

"In  prison.  He  was  taken  into  custody  yesterday 
afternoon  as  he  was  leaving  the  War  Office.  Orders 
from  <K.' " 

"You  can't  mean  that  Richard  Byfield  is " 

Sandys  nodded  quickly. 

"Yes.    He  was  one  of  the  leaks — a  spy." 

"A  spy!"  Betty  Heathcote  whispered  in  awestrick- 
en  tones.  "A  spy — Dick!  Horrible!  I  can't — I 
won't " 

"Unfortunately  there's  not  the  least  doubt  about 
jit.  They  found  incriminating  evidence  at  his 
rooms." 

"My  God!"  said  Lady  Heathcote.  "What  are 
we  coming  to?  Dick  Byfield — why,  two  nights 
ago  he  was  a  guest  at  my  table — with  you,  and 
you -" 

Doris  nodded  faintly,  the  landscape  swimming  in  a 
dark  mist  before  her  eyes.  Byfield — Cyril — Rizzio — 
all  three  had  been  at  Lady  Heathcote's  dinner.  Some- 
thing had  happened  that  night — only  a  part  of  which 

she  knew.  Byfield  was  arrested — and  Cyril She 

clutched  desperately  at  the  edge  of  the  seat  and  set 
her  jaw  to  keep  herself  from  speaking  Cyril's  name. 

"Were  there — any  others?"  she  asked,  with  an 
effort. 

"None  so  far.  But  there  must  have  been  others. 
God  help  them !  They  won't  get  any  mercy." 

"But  what  made  him  do  such  a  thing?"  asked  Betty. 
"I  could  have  sworn " 

"Money — lots  of  it.  He  wasn't  very  well  off,  you 
Jcnow." 

They  were  swinging  over  the  ridge  towards  Kilmo- 

64 


THE  PURSUIT  CONTINUES 

rack  House  in  a  tragic  silence  mocked  by  the  high  ju- 
bilant notes  of  the  co^-ch  horn  which  the  groom  was 
winding  to  announce  their  approach. 

Doris  got  down  swiftly,  summoning  her  courage  to 
be  silent  and  wait.  In  the  drawing-room  when  the 
news  was  told,  Constance  Joyliffe  added  another  note 
of  gloom. 

"We're  going  to  be  a  lively  party,"  said  Lady 
Heathcote  bitterly.  "Thank  the  Lord,  John  Rizzio 
^s  coming." 

"Rizzio!" 

Doris  flashed  around,  her  terror  written  so  plainly 
that  anyone  might  read. 

"Yes.  I  had  his  wire  at  Innerwick  when  I  was  wait- 
ing for  you."  And  then  catching  the  girl  by  the  arm, 
'''Why,  dear,  what  is  the  matter?" 

"I— I  think  I'll  go  up  to  my  room  if  you  don't 
taind,  Betty.  I  won't  have  any  luncheon.  A  cup  of 
tea  is  all."  She  moved  toward  the  door,  her  hand  in 
Lady  Heathcote's.  "And  Betty — the  package,  please 
• — I — I  think  it  may  soothe  me  to  smoke." 

Betty  examined  her  quizzically  but  made  no  com- 
ment, though  she  couldn't  understand  such  a  strange 
proceeding  in  a  girl  who  was  accustomed  to  do  ex- 
actly as  she  pleased.  She  got  the  package  from  her 
desk  in  the  library  and  handed  Doris  the  silk  stockings, 
tobacco,  and  the  yellow  packet.  The  wrapping  paper 
which  had  been  soiled  had  been  relegated  to  the  scrap- 
basket. 

"And  Betty "  pleaded  Doris  as  she  quickly  took 

them,  "promise  me  that  you  won't  tell  John  Rizzio." 

Lady  Heathcote  glanced  at  her  quickly  and  then 
laughed. 

"I  suppose  I'm  the  least  curious  woman  in  Scot- 

65 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


land,"    she    laughed,    "but    I    would    really    like    to 
know " 

"Don't  ask  me,  Betty,"  Doris  pleaded.     "I've  a  r« 
son — a    silly    one,   perhaps,   but   I    ask   you — not   to 
speak  of  this — to  anyone." 

"Oh,  very  well,"  said  Lady  Heathcote,  "I  won't. 
But  don't  be  mysterious.  All  mysteries  nowadays  are 
looked  on  with  suspicion.  Even  such  an  innocent  lit- 
tle mystery" — and  she  laughed — "as  a  package  of  cig- 
arette papers." 

Doris  made  some  light  reply  and  went  to  her  room, 
where,  with  the  doors  locked,  she  quickly  examined  the 
packet  to  be  sure  that  it  had  not  been  tampered  with. 
Nothing  seemed  to  have  been  changed  and  she  gave 
a  sigh  of  relief  to  think  that  thus  far  her  secret  had 
escaped  detection.  It  was  very  clear  to  her  now  that 
John  Rizzio  had  decided  that  the  secret  information 
was  in  her  possession  and  that  his  visit  was  planned 
with  the  object  of  getting  it  away  from  her.  This 
should  never  be.  By  the  light  of  the  window  she  read 
and  re-read  the  thin  script  until  the  lines  were  etched 
upon  her  memory.  She  would  burn  the  papers  if  they 
were  in  danger.  If  Cyril  was  to  meet  Captain  By- 
field's  fate,  it  would  be  upon  other  evidence  than  this. 
Her  hands,  at  least  with  regard  to  Cyril,  must  be 
clean. 

A  knock  upon  the  door  and  she  hurriedly  thrust  the 
packet  under  a  table  cover  and  answered.  It  was  the 
maid  with  her  tea,  and  upon  the  tray  lay  a  note  in  an 
unfamiliar  handwriting.  When  the  maid  had  gone 
she  tore  the  flap  and  read: 

Mr.  Hammersley  begs  that  Miss  Mather  will  not 
be  unduly  alarmed  upon  his  account.     Business  of 

66 


THE  PURSUIT  CONTINUES 

an  urgent  nature  has  detained  him  but  he  assures 
her  that  he  will  join  her  at  the  earliest  possible  mo- 
ment. He  begs  that  she  will  be  careful. 

There  was  no  signature  and  the  handwriting  was 

|  curious — like  none  to  which  she  was  accustomed,  but 

'  the  message  seemed  somehow  to  sound  like  Cyril.     She 

rang  for  the  maid,  questioned  her,  and  found  that  the 

note  had  just  come  over  by  messenger  from  Ben-a- 

Chielt. 

When  the  maid  went  down,  Doris  re-read  the 
message  thankfully.  Cyril  was  safe — at  least  for  the 
present.  And  her  relief  in  the  knowledge  was  the  true 
measure  of  her  relation  to  him.  Whatever  else  he  was, 
he  was  the  man  she  had  promised  to  marry — the  man 
who  a  little  later  would  have  been  hers  for  better  or 
for  worse.  And  between  Cyril  and  John  Rizzio  it  had 
not  been  difficult  to  choose.  It  did  not  seem  difficult 
now. 

She  took  up  the  packet  of  papers  and  paused  be- 
fore the  open  fire,  a  smile  playing  for  the  first  time  at 
the  corners  of  her  lips.  John  Rizzio !  He  was  clever, 
as  she  knew,  but  there  was  more  than  one  way  of  play- 
ing the  game.  Perhaps  with  her  John  Rizzio  might 
be  at  a  disadvantage.  She  hesitated  a  moment  and 
then — pulled  up  her  skirts  and  slipped  the  yellow 
packet  into  her  stocking. 


CHAPTER   VI 

RIZZIO   TAKES   CHARGE 

RIZZIO  was  to  arrive  that  night.  Meanwhile^ 
with  the  papers  hidden  about  her  and  bright 
fires  burning  in  all  the  living-rooms  of  the 
house  in  which  they  could  in  a  moment  be  destroyed^ 
Doris  thought  herself  well  placed  upon  the  defensive* 
Cyril's  note  had  cheered  her,  and  after  removing  the 
dust  of  her  journey  she  went  down  into  the  library^ 
where  she  joined  the  other  members  of  the  house  party 
assembled.  Black  seemed  to  be  the  prevailing  color, 
for,  in  addition  to  the  weeds  of  Lady  Constance,  there 
was  Wilfred  Hammersley,  Cyril's  uncle,  who  had  lost 
an  only  son  at  La  Bassee,  and  the  Heatherington  girls, 
who  had  lost  a  brother. 

"Ugh!"  Lady  Betty  was  saying1.  "I  came  to  Scot- 
land to  try  and  forget,  but  the  war  follows  me.  Dick 
Byfield  a  traitor!  Who  next?  Let's  not  even  speak 
of  it.  Come,  I've  ordered  the  brake,  Doris.  We're 
going  out  for  a  spin.  You  and  I  and  Angeline.  Con- 
stance of  course  has  a  headache,  and  Jack  will  be 
having  another  for  sympathy." 

The  air  outside  was  life-giving,  and  when  she  re- 
turned later  Doris  felt  that  her  brain  had  been  swept 
clear  of  its  cobwebs  of  perplexity.  She  found  Wilson 
standing  in  her  room  gazing  with  a  puzzled  expres- 
sion at  the  tray  of  her  unpacked  box,  the  contents  of 
which  were  in  a  state  of  confusion. 

"It's  strange,  Miss  Mather.  Someone  has  been  at 

68 


EIZZIO  TAKES  CHARGE 

your  things  while  I  was  down  in  the  servants*  hall  at 
luncheon." 

"You're  sure?" 

"Yes,  Miss  Mather,  sure.  Quite  positive,  in  fact. 
Those  waists  were  lying  flat  when  I  left." 

"The  window  wasn't  open?"  asked  Doris  with  a 
glance  around. 

"Oh,  no,  Miss."  She  looked  about  and  lowered  her 
voice.  "It's  somebody  inside." 

"Curious,"  said  Doris  thoughtfully.  "Nothing  has 
been  taken?  Is  the  jewel  box  there?" 

Together  they  examined  the  things  and  found  that 
nothing  was  missing. 

"Say  nothing  about  this,  Wilson,"  said  Doris 
thoughtfully.  "Unless  something  is  taken,  I  shouldn't 
care  to  disturb  Lady  Heathcote." 

"It  can't  be '  Wilson  paused,  her  voice  hushed. 

"The  papers  are  safe,  Wilson — as  long  as  I  am 
feafe,"  replied  the  girl,  and  told  the  maid  of  her  place 
of  concealment. 

Wilson  looked  dubious.  "I  wish  you'd  give  them 
to  me,  Miss  Mather." 

But  the  girl  shook  her  head — she  was  thoroughly 
alive  now  to  the  perils  which  hung  about  her,  here 
within  the  very  doors  of  Lady  Heathcote's  house,  but 
she  had  determined  that  if  she  could  not  find  it  pos- 
sible to  keep  the  papers  until  Cyril  appeared  she 
would  destroy  them.  She  was  not  frightened,  for  how- 
ever clumsy  John  Rizzio's  agents  might  be  she  was 
in  no  danger  from  himself.  Whatever  the  interests 
which  made  the  possession  of  the  yellow  packet  so 
vital,  she  knew  the  man  well  enough  to  be  sure  that 
if  there  came  an  issue  between  them,  he  would  act  with 
her  as  he  had  always  acted — the  part  of  a  gentleman. 

69 


THE  YELLOW  DOFE 


Instead  of  apprehension  at  his  approaching  visit 
she  now  felt  only  interest  and  a  kind  of  suppressed  ex- 
hilaration as  at  the  prospect  of  a  flight  in  a  new  plane 
or  the  trying  out  of  a  green  hunter — excitement  like 
that  which  preceded  all  her  sportive  ventures. 

So  that  when  she  met  John  Rizzio  in  the  drawing- 
room  after  dinner — he  had  not  been  able  to  manage 
a  more  opportune  train — she  gave  him  a  warm  hand- 
clasp of  greeting  and  a  smile  which  caused  him  some 
surprise  and  not  a  little  regret — surprise  that  she  was 
carrying  off  a  difficult  situation  with  consummate  ease ; 
regret  that  such  self-possession  and  artistry  were  not 
to  be  added  to  the  ornaments  of  his  house  in  Berkley 
Square.  Perhaps  still 

"How  agreeable,"  she  was  saying  charmingly.  "The 
great  man  actually  condescends  to  come  to  the  land 
of  Calvin,  oatcake  and  sulphur,  when  there  are  truf- 
fles and  old  Madeira  still  to  be  had  in  London." 

He  laughed,  his  dark  eyes  appraising  her  slender 
blond  beauty  eagerly. 

"I  have  no  quarrel  with  Calvin.  Oatcake — by  all 
means.  Sulphur — er — I  suppose  the  sulphur  will  come 
in  time." 

"Not  if  you're  polite,"  said  the  girl  coolly,  "and 
tell  me  what  brought  you  so  unexpectedly  to  Scot- 
land." 

They  were  standing  near  the  fire  apart  from  the 
others,  Doris  with  one  slipper  on  the  fender,  which 
she  was  regarding  approvingly,  her  head  upon  one  side. 
He  admired  her  careless  tone.  She  was  quite  won- 
derful. 

"Perhaps  you  will  not  believe  me,"  he  said  suavely^ 
"if  I  were  to  tell  you  that  I  came  to  see  you." 

"Me?  I  am  flattered.  I  thought  that  great  col- 

70 


EIZZIO  TAKES  CHARGE 

lectors  were  always  deterred  by  fear  of  the  spuri- 
ous." 

She  was  carrying  the  war  into  his  camp.  He  met 
the  issue  squarely.  "They  are  only  deterred  by  the 
spurious.  Therefore  I  am  here.  The  inference  is  ob- 
vious." 

He  had  always  showed  the  slightest  trace  of  his 
foreign  accent.  It  went  admirably  with  his  shrug  and 
mobile  fingers. 

"I  am  genuine  in  this,"  she  laughed,  "that  however 
much  you  know  about  pictures,  about  objets  de  vertu 
— women  must  remain  for  you  and  for  all  other  men 
an  unknown  quantity." 

"Not  when  they  are  both,"  he  said  gallantly. 

"There  are  good  and  bad  pictures — objects  of  vir- 
tue, excessively  ugly " 

"Objects  of  virtue  are  usually  excessively  ugly,  es- 
pecially if  they  are  women." 

"Thanks,"  said  Doris.  "You're  most  flattering. 
There's  something  in  the  air  of  Scotland  that  makes 
one  tell  the  truth." 

He  laughed.  "If  Scotland  is  as  merciless  as  that,  I 
shall  be  off  in  the  morning.  I  could  imagine  no  worse 
purgatory  than  a  place  in  which  one  always  tells  the 
truth.  Lying  is  one  of  the  highest  arts  of  a  mature 
civilization.  I  haven't  the  slightest  notion,  nor  have 
you,  that  either  of  us  means  a  thing  he  says.  We 
were  all  born  to  deceive — some  of  us  do  it  in  one  way, 
some  in  another,  but  we  all  do  it  to  the  very  best  of 
our  bent.  For  instance,  you  said  a  while  ago  that  it 
was  agreeable  for  you  to  see  me.  But  I'm  quite  sure, 
you  know,  that  it  wasn't." 

"It  isn't  agreeable  if  you're  going  to  be  horrid  and 
cynical.  Why  shouldn't  I  be  glad  to  see  you?  You 

71 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


always  stimulate  my  intelligence  even  if  you  don't  flat- 
ter it." 

The  others  had  moved  on  to  the  library  and  they 
had  the  room  to  themselves. 

"I  don't  see  how  I  could  flatter  it  more  than  I  have 
already  done,"  he  said  in  a  low  tone  of  voice. 

She  raised  her  chin  a  trifle  and  peered  at  him  slant- 
wise. 

"Do  you  think  that  you  flatter  it  now  when  you  re- 
call the  mistakes  of  my  past?" 

He  searched  her  face  keenly  but  her  blue  eyes  met  his 
gaze  steadily.  She  was  smiling  up  at  him  guilelessly. 

"A  mistake — of  course,"  he  said  slowly.  "You  are 
young  enough  to  afford  to  make  mistakes.  But  I  am 
old  enough  to  wish  that  it  hadn't  been  made  at  my 
expense." 

"You  still  care?"  she  asked. 

«I  do." 

"If  I  hadn't  thought  that  you  wanted  me  for  youK 
collection " 

"You  are  cruel " 

"No.  I  know.  You  wanted  me  for  your  portrait 
harem,  and  I  should  have  been  frightfully  jealous  of 
the  Coningsby  Venus.  I  couldn't  compete  with  that 
sort  of  thing,  you  know." 

He  smiled  at  her  admiringly  and  went  on  in  a  low 
tone. 

"You  know  why  I  wanted  you  then,  and  why  I  want 
you  now — because  you're  the  cleverest  woman  in  Eng- 
land, and  the  most  courageous." 

"It  took  courage  to  refuse  the  hand  of  John  Riz- 
zio." 

"It  takes  more  courage  in  John  Rizzio  to  hear  those 
Words  from  the  lips  that  refused  him." 

72 


RIZZIO  TAKES  CHARGE 

She  laid  her  hand  gently  on  his  arm. 

"I  am  sorry,"  she  said. 

He  bent  his  head  and  kissed  her  fingers. 

"It  is  not  the  Coningsby  Venus  who  is  essential  to 
my  happiness,"  he  whispered.  "It's  the  Doris  Diana." 

She  laughed. 

"That's  the  disillusionment  of  possession." 

"No.  The  only  disillusionments  of  life  are  its  fail- 
ures— I  got  the  Venus  by  infinite  patience.  The  Di- 
ana  "  He  paused  and  drew  in  his  breath. 

"You  think  that  you  may  get  the  Diana  by  patience 
also?"  she  asked  quietly. 

He  looked  at  her  with  a  gaze  that  seemed  to  pierce 
all  her  subterfuges. 

"I  waited  for  the  Coningsby  Venus,"  he  said  in 
measured  tones,  "until  the  man  who  possessed  her — • 
;was  dead." 

She  started,  and  the  color  left  her  cheeks. 

"You  mean — Cyril?"   she   stammered. 

"I  mean,"  he  replied  urbanely,  "precisely  nothing — • 
except  that  I  will  never  give  you  up." 

She  recovered  her  poise  with  an  effort,  and  when 
she  replied  she  was  smiling  gayly. 

"I'm  not  at  all  sure  that  I  want  to  be  given  up," 
she  said,  with  a  laugh  that  was  meant  to  relax  the 
tension.  "You  are,  after  all,  one  of  the  best  friends 
I  have." 

"I  hope  that  nothing  may  ever  happen  to  make  you 
think  otherwise." 

Was  this  a  threat?  She  glanced  at  him  keenly  as 
she  quoted: 

"  'Friendship  is  constant  in  all  other  things  save 
in  the  office  and  affairs  of  love.'  May  I  trust  you?" 

"Try  me." 

6  73 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


"No,  I  might  put  you  to  a  test  that  would  be  diffi- 
cult." 

"Try  me." 

"Very  well,  I  will.  Go  back  to  London  in  the  morn- 
ing." 

He  looked  at  her  and  laughed. 

"Why?" 

"It  will  be  easier  for  you  to  be  patient  there  than 
here " 

"When  Hammersley  comes?" 

"Oh,"  she  said  quickly,  "then  he  is  coming?" 

"I  don't  know  why  he  shouldn't,"  he  said  slowly. 

There  was  a  pause. 

"Shall  you  go?" 

"To  London?    I'll  think  about  it." 

"There!     You  see?     You  refuse  my  first  request." 

"I  would  like  to  know  your  purpose." 

"I  think  you  know  it  already,"  she  put  in  quickly. 
"You  want  something  that  I  cannot  give  you — some- 
thing that  is  not  mine  to  give." 

She  had  come  out  into  the  open  defiantly  and  he 
met  her  challenge  with  a  laugh. 

"Because  it  is  Hammersley's  ?"  he  said.  "You  think 
so  and  Hammersley  thinks  so,  and  possession  is  nine 
points  of  the  law.  But  I  will  contest." 

"Your  visit  is  vain.  Go  back  to  London,  my 
friend." 

"I  find  it  pleasanter  here." 

"Then  you  refuse?" 

"I  must." 

"Then  it  is  war  between  us." 

"If  you  will  have  it  so,"  he  said,  with  an  inclination 
of  the  head.  Doris  put  her  foot  on  the  fender  and 
leaned  with  her  hands  upon  her  knee  for  a  moment  as 

74. 


RIZZIO  TAKES  CHARGE 

though  in  deep  thought.     Then  she  turned  toward  the 
door. 

"Come,"  she  said  coolly.     "Let  us  join  the  others." 

There  was  a  relief  in  the  thought  that  at  least  they 
had  come  to  an  understanding  and  that  the  matter  of 
the  possession  of  the  papers  had  at  last  become  a 
private  contest  between  them.  She  had  brought  the 
interview  to  an  end  not  because  she  was  afraid  to 
continue  it  but  because  she  wanted  to  think  of  a  plan 
to  disarm  him.  She  felt  that  she  was  moving  in  the 
dark  but  she  trusted  to  her  delicate  woman's  sense  of 
touch  to  stumble  upon  some  chance,  some  slip  of  his 
tongue,  which  might  lead  her  into  the  light. 

In  the  drawing-room  by  common  consent  all  talk  of 
war  had  been  abolished.  She  sat  in  at  a  hand  of  auc- 
tion, but  playing  badly,  she  was  gladly  relinquished  by 
her  partner  at  the  end  of  the  rubber.  John  Rizzio, 
who  disliked  the  game,  had  gone  off  for  a  quiet  smoke, 
but  when  she  got  up  from  the  card  table  he  was  there 
waiting  for  her. 

"Cyril  shall  know  of  this,"  laughed  Betty,  as  they 
went  toward  the  door.  "They  say  that  absence  makes 
the  heart  grow  fonder — of  the  other  fellow." 

Doris  led  the  way  to  the  gun-room,  a  place  used  by 
Algie  Heathcote  for  his  sporting  implements  and  tro- 
phies of  the  chase.  It  was  comfortably  furnished  in 
leather  and  oak  and  a  cheerful  fire  was  burning  in 
the  grate.  Doris  sank  into  the  davenport  and  mo- 
tioned to  her  companion  to  the  place  at  her  side.  She 
was  thoroughly  alive  to  her  danger,  but  the  sports- 
woman in  her  made  her  keen  to  put  it  to  the  test. 

"We  are  quite  alone  here,"  she  said  coolly.  "The 
others  are  not  even  within  call.  Now  what  do  you 
want  of  me?" 

75 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


Her  audacity  rather  startled  him,  but  he  folded  his 
arms  and  leaned  back  smiling. 

"The  papers  of  Riz-la-Croix,  of  course,"  he  said 
amiably. 

"And  how  do  you  know  they're  in  my  possession?" 

He  shrugged. 

"Because  they  couldn't  possibly  be  anywhere  else." 

"How  do  you  know?" 

"Because  I  have  exhausted  every  other  resource." 

"You're  frank  at  least — including  the  burglary  at 
Ashwater  Park  and  the  messing  in  my  box  up- 
stairs ?" 

"And  since  you  must  know  the  full  truth,"  he  con- 
tinued politely,  "the  careful  search  of  your  room  in 
your  absence  this  evening — including  the  removal  of 
the  rugs  and  bedding.  Oh,  don't  be  disturbed,  I  beg 
of  you,"  as  she  made  a  movement  of  alarm,  "they  have 
all  been  replaced  with  a  nice  care  for  detail." 

"And  if  I  told  Lady  Heathcote  of  this " 

"I  am  quite  sure  that  the  best  interests  of  all,"  he 
said  politely,  "are  conserved — by  silence." 

She  meditated  a  moment,  her  gaze  on  the  coals. 

"Yes,"  she  said  slowly,  "you're  clever — more  than 
ordinarily  clever.  I  can't  understand  how  I  could  ever 
have  refused  you.  But  don't  you  think  your  methods 
have  been  a  little — er — unchivalrous  ?" 

"The  importance  of  my  objects  admitted  of  no  de- 
lay. I  hope  you  have  not  been  inconvenienced " 

"Not  in  the  least,"  calmly.  "My  recollection  of 
your  many  civilities  merely  made  me  think  that  your 
agents  were  overzealous." 

"I  am  sorry,"  he  said  genuinely.  "It  could  not  be 
helped.  You  and  I  are  merely  pawns  in  a  game  greater 
than  anything  the  world  has  ever  known." 

76 


RIZZIO  TAKES  CHARGE 

"I  didn't  want  you  to  apologize.  I  merely  thought 
in  order  to  avoid  comment  that  you  might  have  come 
to  me  yourself." 

"I  thought  I  might  save  you  the  unpleasantness  of 
a  controversy  which  can  only  have  one  end." 

"You  mean — that  you  will  win." 

"I  do." 

"How?" 

"You  will  give   me  the   papers — here,   tonight." 

"And  if  I  told  you  that  I  had  destroyed  them?" 

"That  would  be  manifestly  untrue,  since  at  the 
present  moment  in  the  position  of  your  body  their  out- 
line is  quite  clearly  defined  on  the  inside  of  your  right 
knee." 

Doris  put  both  slippers  upon  the  ground,  her  feet 
together,  her  face  flushing  warmly. 

"I  hope  you  will  forgive  my  frankness,"  she  heard 
him  say  gently,  "but  the  method  of  your  challenge — 
is — unusual." 

She  clasped  her  hands  around  her  knees  and 
frowned  into  the  fire. 

"You  mistake,  I  think,  my  friend.  It  is  not  a  chal- 
lenge. It  is  merely  a  method  of  defense — the  safest, 
I  am  sure,  against  John  Rizzio." 

He  bowed  low  with  deep  ceremony. 

"Of  course,  I  am  helpless."     And  then,  "I  can  only 
rely  on  your  good  sense  and" — here  his  voice  sunk  a  : 
note  lower — "and  on  your  loyalty  to  the  cause  of  Eng- 
land." 

This  was  the  opening  that  she  had  been  waiting  for. 
She  thrust  quickly. 

"And  if  the  cause  is  England's  why  didn't  Scotland 
Yard  come  to  Ashwater  Park?" 

"Dunsinane  to  Burnam  Wood !"  he  shrugged.  "They 

77 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


would  have  made  asinine  mistakes  as  they  always  do — 
the  chief  of  which  would  have  been  that  of  denouncing 
Miss  Doris  Mather  as  an  agent  of  England's  ene- 
mies." 

The  girl  tapped  her  toe  reflectively  upon  the  rug. 

"I  won't  attempt  subterfuge.  Of  course,  I  know  the 
contents  of  that  packet." 

"You  wouldn't  be  a  woman  if  you  didn't." 

"And  how  it  was  passed  from  Captain  Byfield  to 
Cyril  Hammersley."  This  was  a  random  shot  but  it 
hit  the  mark.  Eizzio's  eyes  dilated  slightly,  but  she 
saw  them. 

"Byfield !     Impossible." 

"Not  at  all.     Cyril  told  me,"  she  lied. 

"He  told  you ?"  he  paused  aghast,  for  now  she 

was  laughing  at  him. 

"No — but  you  have." 

His  brow  tangled  and  he  folded  his  arms  again. 

"Of  course,  you  know  the  importance  to  Cyril  and 
Captain  Byfield  of  keeping  such  a  matter  secret." 

He  had  not  heard !  He  did  not  know !  She  remem- 
bered that  the  subject  of  the  dreadful  news  from  Lon- 
don had  not  been  reopened  and  Jack  Sandys'  sources 
of  information  were  probably  semiofficial. 

She  controlled  her  voice  with  an  effort. 

"I  would  hardly  be  the  one  to  mention  names  un- 
der the  circumstances — since  my  own  fortunes  seem 
to  be  involved  in  the  matter,  but  as  for  Captain  By- 
field,  I'm  afraid  that  further  secrecy  will  hardly  help 
him." 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"Merely  that  he  was  arrested  late  yesterday  after- 
noon as  he  was  leaving  the  War  Office." 

She  had  not  counted  on  the  effect  she  created.  She 
78 


EIZZIO  TAKES  CHARGE 

knew  that  her  last  thrust  had  put  him  more  carefully 
on  guard,  but  he  could  not  hide  the  sudden  intake  of 
breath  and  the  quick  searching  glance  his  dark  eyes 
shot  at  her. 

"What  is  your  source  of  information?" 

"Jack  Sandys.  He  came  here  directly  from  Down- 
ing Street." 

She  saw  Rizzio's  lips  meet  under  his  mustache  in  a 
thin  line. 

"So.     It  has  come  sooner — than  I  expected." 

He  got  up  and  paced  the  floor,  his  fingers  twitching 
behind  his  back.  She  said  nothing,  waiting  for  him 
to  rejoin  her.  When  he  did,  it  was  with  a  serious  ex- 
pression. 

"I  suppose  you  know  what  this  means  to — to  Ham- 
mersley,"  he  said  in  a  low  voice. 

Doris  sat  without  moving,  but  her  brain  was  busy 
weighing  Rizzio. 

"No,"  she  replied  calmly,  "I  don't.  Won't  you  tell 
me?" 

He  leaned  forward  toward  her  along  the  back  of 
their  seat,  his  look  and  voice  concentrated  upon  her. 

"Is  it  possible,"  he  continued,  "that  you  haven't 
realized  by  this  time  exactly  what  Cyril  Hammersley 
is?" 

"No,"  she  said  staunchly.  "I  will  believe  nothing 
of  him  unless  he  tells  it  to  me  himself." 

He  waited  a  moment,  watching  her,  and  fancied  that 
he  saw  her  lips  tremble  slightly.  Her  loyalty  to  Ham- 
mersley inflamed  him.  He  followed  up  his  advantage 
quickly. 

"There  are  reasons  why  I  should  dislike  to  give 
you  pain,  greater  reasons  why  I  should  be  generous 
with  a  successful  rival,  and  I  have  done  what  I  can 

79 


to  take  this  matter  out  of  your  hands.  There  is  still 
time.  Will  you  give  me  that  packet?" 

She  shook  her  head. 

"Then  I  must  speak,"  he  went  on.  "My  duty  de- 
mands it,  whatever  happens  to  him — whatever  hap- 
pens to  you.  Don't  make  me  go  to  extremes  with  you. 
I  cannot  bear  to  do  it.  Hammersley  is  a  German  spy. 
Those  papers  were  to  be  forwarded  to  Germany.  You 
are  saving  them  for  him,  that  he  may  betray  Eng- 
land." 

"That  is  not  true,"  she  said  chokingly,  "I  do  not 
believe  it." 

"You  must.  Isn't  there  proof  enough  in  what  you 
have  read?" 

"There  is  some  mistake." 

"No.  There  can't  be.  Your  sentiments  are  blind- 
ing you." 

"One  moment,  please."  Doris  had  risen  and  faced 
him  across  the  hearth,  a  new  fire  of  resolution  in  her 
eyes.  To  Rizzio,  the  lover  of  beauty,  she  was  a  mock- 
ery of  lost  happiness.  She  was  Diana,  not  the  hunt- 
ress but  the  hunted. 

"You  have  told  me  what  Cyril  Hammersley  is.  Now 
if  you  please  I  would  like  to  know  what  you  are !" 

He  paused  a  moment  and  then  with  a  step  toward 
her  said  gently: 

"I  think  my  interests  should  be  fairly  obvious.  I 
am  acting  for  the  English  Government." 

"I  have  only  your  word  for  it.  Have  you  any  pa- 
pers that  would  prove  it — in  your  card-case,  for  in- 
stance?" 

He  started  back,  his  fingers  instinctively  reaching 
upward.  Then  he  shrugged  and  laughed. 

"You  are  surely  the  most  amazing  person.  Un- 

80 


'Not  that/  he  whispered  hoarsely,  'for  God's  sake — not 
that.'  " 


fortunately  I  have  no  documents.  I  am  only  doing 
my  duty  as  a  private  citizen — a  loyal  resident  of  the 
Empire." 

"But  not  a  Briton.  Neither  am  I.  We  meet  on 
equal  terms." 

"Then  you  refuse  me — definitely,  finally." 

"Yes,  I  must." 

"I  beg  that  you  will  consider  carefully  the  alterna- 
tives. If  you  give  me  the  papers — silence  on  my  part 
— safety  for  Hammersley.  If  you  refuse  to  give  them 
up "  he  paused. 

"Then  what  will  you  do?"  she  defied  him. 

"It  would  be  the  most  terrible  moment  of  my  life — • 
but  I  will  denounce  him — here  tonight — tomorrow  in 
London.  Those  papers  must  not  reach  Germany — •. 
even  if  I  have  to  denounce  you,  too." 

"And  if  I  promise  that  the  papers  will  not  reach 
Germany?" 

He  hesitated  a  moment. 

"There  is  too  much  at  stake.  I  can't  take  the  risk. 
No  woman  can  be  trusted " 

"Not  even  the  woman  John  Rizzio  would  have  made 
his  wife?" 

He  moved  his  shoulders  expressively.  Her  youth 
and  cleverness  were  bewildering  him. 

"No,  that  will  not  do,"  he  said  in  desperation.  "You 
must  give  me  the  papers." 

"I  will  not.  You  shall  have  to  take  them  from 
me." 

He  leaned  toward  her  along  the  mantel  aware  of  her 
dominant  loveliness. 

"You  would  not  drive  me  to  that!" 

"Yes.  It  is  a  challenge.  I  offer  it.  I  will  fight 
you,  and  I  am  strong.  I  have  a  voice  arid  I  will  raise 

81 


THE  YELLOW  DOFE 


an  outcry.    They  will  come  and  I  will  tell  them.    Then 
you  can  denounce  me?    Will  you  dare?" 

He  came  toward  her  while  she  fled  around  the  daven- 
port, eluding  him  with  ease.  She  was  swifter  of  foot 
than  he.  He  stopped  a  moment  near  the  gun-rack  to 
plead.  She  kept  the  huge  oak  lounge  between  them  > 
and  listened  by  the  fire.  Something  she  saw  in  his 
eyes  decided  her,  for  as  he  came  forward  to  leap  over 
the  davenport  she  threw  something  yellow  toward  him. 

He  gave  a  gasp  of  relief,  picked  the  object  up  and 
made  a  cry  of  dismay. 

"The  cover!  I  must  have  the  papers,"  he  cried, 
coming  forward  again. 

By  this  time  the  girl  was  standing  upright,  a  poker 
in  one  hand,  the  thin  cigarette  papers  cramped  in  the 
fingers  of  the  other,  over  the  open  fire. 

Rizzio  paused  in  the  very  act  of  leaping. 

"Not  that,"  he  whispered  hoarsely,  "for  God's  sake 
— not  that." 

"Stay  where  you  are,  then,"  said  the  girl  in  a  low 
resolute  tone. 

Rizzio  straightened.     Doris  still  bent  over  the  fire. 

"Give  it  to  me,"  he  said  again. 

"No.    England's  secrets  shall  be  safe." 

"Don't  you  understand?"  he  whispered  wildly.  "I've 
got  to  prove  that  they  are." 

"I  can  prove  that  as  well  as  you " 

"But  you  won't.     Hammersley  is " 

He  paused  and  both  of  them  straightened,  listening* 
Outside  in  the  hall  there  was  a  commotion  and  a  famil- 
iar voice  as  the  Honorable  Cyril,  his  face  and  fur  coat 
spattered  with  mud,  came  into  the  room. 


CHAPTER    VII 

y  AN   INTRUDER 

HE  looked  from  one  to  the  other  with  a  quickly 
appraising  eye.     The  girl  was  fingering  the 
lace   of  her  bodice.     Rizzio  had  turned  to- 
ward the  newcomer  recovering  his  poise. 

"Hope  I'm  not  intruding"  said  Hammersley,  with 
a  laugh. 

"Well,  hardly.     You've  come  in  a  hurry." 

"Yes,"  drawled  Hammersley.  "I  missed  your  train, 
I  think.  Too  bad.  Jolly  slow  work  travelin'  alone. 
Stryker  picked  me  up  at  Edinburgh  and  we  came 
on  by  motor." 

He  took  off  his  fur  coat  in  leisurely  fashion  and 
crossing  to  the  fireplace  took  Doris's  proffered  hand. 
"You  had  my  note?"  he  asked  carelessly. 

The  girl  nodded.     "I  was  glad,"  she  said. 

"Well,  I'm  here.  Jolly  happy,  too.  Had  a  narrow 
squeak  of  it,  though.  Some  bally  idiot  stretched  rope 
across  the  road  over  by  Saltham  Rocks,  but  we  saw  it 
in  time,  and  went  around.  Fired  a  few  shots  at  us, 
too.  Must  have  taken  me  for  Rizzio.  What?"  he 
laughed. 

Thus  directly  appealed  to,  Rizzio  smiled  grudgingly. 

"You  don't  ask  me  to  believe  that  story,  Hammers- 
ley,"  he  said  dryly. 

"You  don't  have  to,  Rizzio." 

The  girl's  look  was  fixed  on  Hammersley's  face. 
Suddenly  she  broke  in  with  a  voice  of  alarm. 

83 


"Cyril — you're  hurt — and  there's  blood  on  your 
coat " 

"Is  there?  By  Jove,  so  there  is — it  doesn't  matter. 
I  wouldn't  mind  a  peg  though — and  a  cigarette." 

Doris  had  started  for  the  door  in  alarm. 

"Wait!"  Hammersley's  voice  came  sharply.  And  as 
she  paused,  "Ring,  Doris." 

She  understood  and  touched  the  button  beside  the 
door. 

"We  might  as  well  have  an  understanding  before 
they  come,  Rizzio,"  put  in  Hammersley  quickly.  "Do 
you  prefer  to  believe  my  story — or  would  you  like 
to  invent  one  of  your  own?" 

Rizzio  shrugged.  "As  you  please,"  he  said.  "It 
seems  that  I  am  de  trop  here."  At  the  door  he  paused 
and  finished  distinctly.  "I  hope  that  your  explanations 
will  prove  satisfactory." 

Doris  had  helped  Cyril  off  with  his  coat  and  by  the 
time  the  maid  brought  Betty  Heathcote,  had  cut  away 
the  sleeve  of  his  shirt  with  Cyril's  pocket  knife.  It 
was  merely  a  gash  across  the  upper  arm,  which  a 
bandage  and  some  old-fashioned  remedies  would  set 
right. 

Lady  Heathcote  heard  the  story  (from  which  Ham- 
mersley eliminated  the  rope)  with  amazement,  and  was 
for  sending  at  once  for  the  local  constabulary. 

"Oh,  it's  hardly  worth  while,"  said  the  Honorable 
Cyril,  sipping  his  whiskey  and  water,  comfortably. 
"Poor  devils — out  of  work,  I  fancy.  Wanted  my 
money.  If  they'd  come  to  Ben-a-Chielt  tomorrow 
I'd  give  it  to  'em.  But  I  wouldn't  mind,  Betty,  if  you 
could  put  me  up  for  the  night.  I'm  not  keen  to  be 
dodgin'  bullets  in  the  dark." 

"Of  course,"  said  Lady  Heathcote.  "How  extraor- 

84 


'AN  INTRUDER 


dinary!     I  can't  understand — Saltham  Rocks — that's 
on  my  place.     Something  must  be  done,  Cyril." 

Hammersley  yawned.  "Oh,  tomorrow  will  do. 
Couldn't  catch  the  beggars  in  the  dark.  Besides, 
it's  late.  Do  me  a  favor,  Betty.  Don't  let  those 
people  come  in  here  again.  I  want  a  word  with 
Doris." 

He  had  stretched  himself  out  comfortably  on  the 
Davenport,  his  eyes  on  the  girl,  who  still  stood  un- 
certainly beside  him. 

Lady  Betty  shrugged,  and  taking  up  her  basin  and 
lotion  moved  toward  the  door. 

"It's  most  mysterious.  Are  you  sure  we're  quite 
safe?" 

"Quite.  But  I  think  it  might  be  better  if  I  had 
the  room  between  yours  and  Doris's." 

"I  was  putting  John  Rizzio  there." 

"Well,  change — there's  a  dear.  And  say  nothing 
about  it.  I — I  might  need  a  new  dressing  on  this 
thing  in  the  night." 

She  examined  him  curiously,  but  he  was  looking 
lazily  into  the  fire,  having  already  taken  her  acquies- 
cence for  granted. 

When  she  went  out,  Hammersley  sat  up  and  threw 
his  cigarette  into  the  fire. 

"You  have  it  still?"  he  whispered  anxiously,  tak- 
ing Doris  by  both  hands. 

She  nodded. 

"Thank  God  for  that.  I  seemed  to  have  arrived  at 
the  proper  moment." 

"I  was  about  to  burn  them." 

He  drew  a  long  breath  of  relief. 

"You  know  what  they  are?" 

"Yes.     I  read  them." 

85 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


"I  was  afraid  you  would.  You  have  spoken  to  no 
one." 

"No,"  proudly.  "Hardly.  After  what  I  went 
through."  And,  with  an  air  of  restraint,  she  told 
him  everything. 

He  listened,  a  serious  look  in  his  eyes. 

"It  was  my  fault.  I  should  have  left  them  in  the 
machine.  I  got  away  scot  free." 

"Yes,  I  know.    I  saw  you." 

"You  poor  child,"  he  said  softly.  "I  was  desper- 
ate. I  thought  it  necessary.  How  can  I  ever  thank 

you?" 

"You  can't."     The  tones  of  her  voice  were  strange. 

"I'd  jolly  well  give  my  life  for  you,  Doris.  You 
know  that,"  he  said  earnestly. 

"It's  something  less  than  that  that  I  want,  and 
something  more — your  word  of  honor." 

"My  word — — ?" 

"Yes,"  she  went  on  quietly.  "To  forswear  your 
German  kinship  and  give  me  an  oath  of  loyalty  to 
England.  Difficult  as  it  is,  I'll  believe  you." 

"Sh — !"  He  glanced  toward  the  door.  All  the 
windows  of  the  room  were  closed.  "He  told  you  that 
I  was  a  German  spy?"  he  whispered  anxiously. 

"You  forget  that  I  had  proof  of  that  already." 

He  sat  up  and  looked  into  the  fire.  "I  hoped  you 
wouldn't  read  'em.  It  has  done  no  good." 

"I  have  no  regrets.  I  will  not  betray  England,  Cy- 
ril, even  for  you." 

He  rose  and  paced  the  rug  in  front  of  her  for  a 
moment.  Then  he  spoke  incredulously  in  a  whisper. 

"You  mean  that  you  won't  give  'em  to  me?" 

"I  mean  that — precisely." 

"But  that  is  impossible,"  he  went  on,  with  greater 

86 


AN  INTRUDER 


signs  of  excitement  than  she  had  ever  seen  in  him. 
"Don't  you  realize  now  that  every  moment  the  things 
are  in  your  possession  you're  in  danger — great  dan- 
ger? Isn't  what  you've  gone  through — isn't  this" — 
and  he  indicated  his  arm — '"the  proof  of  it?" 

"Yes,"  she  said  firmly.  "But  I  would  rather  suffer 
injury  myself  than  see  you  share  the  fate  of  Captain 
Byfield." 

He  started.     "Oh,  you  heard  that?" 

"Yes.  Jack  Sandys  is  here."  She  put  her  face  in 
her  hands  in  the  throes  of  her  doubts  of  him  and  then 
suddenly  thrust  out  her  hands  and  laced  her  fingers 
around  his  arm. 

"Oh,  give  it  up,  Cyril,  for  my  sake  give  it  all  up. 
Can't  you  see  the  terrible  position  you've  placed  me  in? 
If  I  give  these  papers  to  Jack  Sandys  they'll  come  and 
take  you  as  they  took  Captain  Byfield.  I've  kept  them 
for  you,  because  I  promised.  But  I  cannot  let  this 
information  get  to  Germany.  I  would  die  first.  What 
shall  I  do?"  she  wailed.  "What  on  earth  can  I  do?" 

His  reply  made  her  gasp. 

"There's  a  fire,"  he  said  quietly.     "Burn  'em." 

Her  fingers  went  to  her  corsage  and  her  eyes  gleamed 
with  a  new  hope.  She  took  the  crumpled  rice-papers 
out  and  looked  at  them.  Then  in  a  flash  the  thought 
came  to  her. 

"You  know  the  information  contained  in  these  pa- 
pers?" she  asked  in  an  accent  of  deprecation. 

"No,"  he  replied  shortly.  "I  merely  glanced  at 
them." 

"You  hadn't  the  chance  to  study  them?" 

"No." 

Still  she  hesitated.     "But  what — what  is  Rizzio  ?" 

He  walked  to  the  door  of  the  room,  opening  it  sud- 

87 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


denly.  Then  he  shut  it  quietly  and  coming  back  to 
the  fire  took  the  poker  and  made  a  hole  between  the 
glowing  coals. 

"Burn  'em!"  he  commanded. 

She  obeyed  him  wonderingly  and  together  they 
watched  the  package  of  rice-papers  flame  into  a  live 
coal  and  then  turn  to  ashes.  When  the  last  vestige  of 
them  had  disappeared,  they  sat  together  on  the  daven- 
port, Cyril  thoughtful,  the  girl  bewildered. 

"What  is  Rizzio?"  she  repeated.  "He  told  me  that 
he  was  an  agent  of  the  English  Government." 

"I  can't  tell  you,"  he  whispered  hoarsely.  "I  can't 
tell  you  anything — even  you.  Don't  you  understand  ?" 

"No,  I  don't.  It's  your  word  against  his.  I  would 
rather  believe  you  than  him.  I  want  to,  Cyril.  God 
knows  I  want  to." 

"Didn't  I  ask  you  to  burn  the  papers?  Didn't  he 
try  to  prevent  it?" 

"Yes." 

"Can't  you  see?  If  he  were  acting  for  England, 
it  wouldn't  matter  what  became  of  'em  if  they  didn't 
reach  Germany." 

"Oh,  I  thought  of  that — but  what  you  have  told 
me  bewilders  me.  Why  should  you  run  away  with  se- 
crets of  England — given  you  by  a  traitor  who  is  about 
to  pay  the  penalty  with — with  death?  What  does  it 
mean?  Why  didn't  you  take  those  papers  at  once  to 
the  War  Office?  Why  did  Captain  Byfield  give  them 
to  you?  He — a  traitor — to  you — Cyril!  It  is  all  so 
horrible.  I  am  frightened.  Your  danger — Rizzio's 
men,  here — tonight — all  about  us." 

"If  they  were  English  secret  service  men,"  Cyril 
put  in  quietly,  "wouldn't  they  come  here  to  this  house 
and  arrest  me  in  the  name  of  the  law?" 

88 


AN  INTRUDER 


"Yes.  There  must  be  other  reasons  why  they  can't. 
What  is  the  contest  between  you  and  Rizzio?  Tell 
me.  Tell  me  everything!  I  will  believe  you.  Haven't 
I  kept  your  trust?  If  I  could  do  that — for  your  sake 
— do  you  not  think  that  I  could  keep  silent  for  Eng- 
land's sake?" 

Her  arms  were  about  his  neck,  and  her  lips  very 
close  to  his,  but  he  turned  his  head  away  so  that  the 
temptation  might  not  be  too  strong  for  him. 

"I  can't,"  he  muttered,  "I  cannot  speak — even  to 
you.  I  am  sworn  to  secrecy." 

She  drooped  upon  his  arms  and  then  moved  away 
despairingly.  It  was  the  failure  of  the  appeal  of  her 
femininity  that  condemned  him. 

"Oh,  you  won't  let  me  believe  in  you.  You  won't  let 
me.  It's  too  great  a  test  you're  asking  of  me.  Every- 
thing is  against  you — but  the  worst  witness  is  your 
silence !" 

He  stood  by  the  mantel,  his  head  lowered. 

"It  is  hard  for  you — hard  for  us  both,"  he  said 
softly,  "but  I  can't  tell  you  anythin' — anythin'."  He 
raised  his  head  and  looked  at  her  with  pity.  She  had 
sunk  upon  the  divan,  her  head  upon  her  arms  in  a  de- 
spair too  deep  for  tears. 

He  crossed  and  laid  his  hand  gently  upon  her  shoul- 
der. 

"You  must  trust  in  me  if  you  can.  I  will  try  to 
be  worthy  of  it.  That's  all  I  can  say."  He  paused. 
"And  now  you  must  go  to  bed.  You're  a  bit  fagged. 
Perhaps  in  the  mornin'  you'll  pull  up  a  bit  and  see 
things  differently." 

She  straightened  slowly  and  their  eyes  met  for  a 
moment.  His  never  wavered,  and  she  saw  that  they 
were  very  kind,  but  she  rose  silently  and  without  ofrer- 
7  89 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


ing  him  her  lips  or  even  her  hand,  moved  slowly  toward 
the  door. 

He  reached  it  in  a  stride  before  her  and  put  his 
hand  upon  the  knob. 

"There's  one  thing  more  I've  got  to  ask." 

Her  look  questioned. 

"You  must  sleep  in  my  room  tonight,  next  to  Bet- 
ty's. I  shall  sleep  in  yours." 

Her  weary  eyes  sought  his  with  an  effort. 

"You  mean  you  think  Rizzio — would  still ?" 

She  paused. 

"Yes,  he  thinks  you  would  not  give  them  to  me." 
And  then,  with  a  laugh,  "You  wouldn't,  you  know." 

"And  if  I  tell  him  I  have  burned  them " 

"He  will  not  believe  you." 

"He  would  not  believe  me,"  she  repeated  in  a  daze. 

"You  must  do  what  I  ask,"  Cyril  went  on  quietly.  "I 
know  what  is  best.  I'll  arrange  it  with  Betty."  He 
glanced  at  his  watch.  "One  o'clock.  By  Jove!  It's 
time  even  for  auction  players." 

She  promised  him  at  last  after  a  protest  on  his 
own  account. 

"Nothin'  to  worry  about,"  he  laughed.  "They  may 
not  try  anythin',  and  when  they  find  I'm  there  they'll 
bundle  out  in  a  hurry." 

Thus  reassured  she  went  out  to  the  drawing-room 
where  the  card  players  were  just  rising.  Rizzio  was 
nowhere  to  be  seen.  Cyril  at  once  took  their  hostess 
aside  and  told  her  that  Doris  was  a  little  upset  by 
the  shooting,  asking  if  Betty  would  mind  letting  hef 
take  the  room  next  to  her  own,  so  that  she  could  open 
the  door  between. 

"Don't  say  anything  about  it,  Betty,"  he  urged. 
**Just  ask  her  in,  won't  you,  when  you  get  upstairs." 

90 


'AN  INTRUDER 


"And  you?" 

"I  could  do  a  turn  on  steel  spikes,"  he  laughed. 

"Your  arm?" 

"Right  as  rain.     It's  nothing  at  all." 

Doris  accepted  the  situation  without  a  word.  In- 
deed she  was  numbed  with  the  fatigue  of  strained 
nerves.  The  swift  rush  of  incident  since  Betty's  Lon- 
don dinner,  with  its  rapid  alternations  of  hope  and 
fear,  had  left  her  bewildered  and  helpless.  But  it 
was  the  interview  with  Cyril  tonight  that  had  plunged 
her  into  the  dark  abyss  of  despair.  She  had  tried  so 
hard  to  believe  in  him,  but  he  would  do  nothing  to  take 
away  the  weight  that  had  been  dragging  her  down  fur- 
ther and  further  from  the  light.  A  new  kind  of  love 
had  come  to  her,  born  of  the  new  Cyril  who  had  won 
her  over  by  the  sheer  force  of  a  personality,  the  ex- 
istence of  which  she  had  not  dreamed.  A  short  time 
ago  she  had  wanted  to  see  him  awake — a  firebrand — 
and  she  had  had  her  wish,  for  she  had  kindled  to  his 
touch  like  tinder.  But  tonight,  in  her  utter  weari- 
ness, it  seemed  as  though  her  spirit  was  charred,  burnt 
to  a  cinder,  like  the  package  of  papers  in  the  grate 
in  the  gun-room,  destroyed,  as  the  secret  message  had 
been,  in  the  great  game  that  Cyril  was  playing. 

She  undressed  slowly,  listening  for  any  sounds  that 
might  come  from  the  room  next  door,  but  the  only  sign 
she  had  of  him  was  the  familiar  smell  of  his  pipe  to- 
bacco which  came  through  the  cracks  and  key-hole.  A 
little  later  Betty  Heathcote  came  in  prepared  for  what 
she  called  a  "back  hair  talk,"  but  found  her  guest  so 
unresponsive  that  at  last  she  went  into  her  own  room 
and  bed.  Doris  lay  for  a  while  watching  the  line  of 
light  under  Cyril's  door,  wondering  what  he  was  doing 
and  what  the  night  was  to  bring  forth.  One  memory 

91 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


persisted  in  the  chaos  of  the  night's  events.  Cyril 
didn't  know  the  contents  of  the  papers  and  yet  he 
had  commanded  her  to  burn  them.  The  thought 
quieted  her,  and  at  last  she  saw  the  light  in  his  room 
go  out,  then,  after  a  time,  in  spite  of  her  weariness, 
she  slept. 


She  awakened,  trembling  with  terror,  listening  for 
she  knew  not  what.  And  then  as  her  wits  slowly  came 
to  her,  she  was  aware  of  the  sounds  which  had  awak- 
ened her.  They  were  suppressed,  secret,  and  strange, 
but  none  the  less  terrible,  the  shuffling  of  feet,  hoarse 
whispers,  and  the  creaking  of  straining  furniture.  She 
sat  upright,  slipped  to  the  floor  quickly,  and,  getting 
into  the  dressing-gown  at  the  foot  of  the  bed,  stood 
for  a  moment  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  her  heart  beat- 
ing wildly.  Then  with  quick  resolution  she  moved 
swiftly  to  Betty  Heathcote's  room  and,  after  assur- 
ing herself  that  her  hostess  still  slept,  closed  the  door 
softly  and  passed  the  bolt. 

Again  she  hesitated.  The  sounds  from  Cyril's  room 
continued,  the  hard  breathing  of  men  who  seemed  with 
one  accord  to  be  trying  to  keep  their  struggles  silent. 
Aware  of  her  danger,  but  considering  it  less  than  the 
j  physical  need  for  immediate  action,  with  trembling  fin- 
gers she  turned  the  key  and  quickly  opened  the  door. 

At  first,  silence,  utter  and  profound,  but  full  of  a 
terror  which  a  breath  might  reveal. 

"Cyril!     What  is  it?"  she  managed  to  whisper. 

"Sh — "  she  heard.  And  dimly,  in  the  pale  moon- 
light, she  made  out  the  dark  blur  of  figures  upon  the 
floor  in  the  corner  of  the  room. 

"Cyril!"  she  repeated. 

92 


AN  INTRUDER 


"It's  all  right,"  she  heard  in  a  breathless  whisper. 
"Go  back  to  your  room.  It's  nothin'." 

But  having  ventured  thus  far  she  did  not  hesitate, 
and  closing  the  door  behind  her  came  forward.  Upon 
the  floor,  half  against  the  wall,  was  the  figure  of  a 
man.  Cyril  was  sitting  on  his  legs  and  holding  him 
with  one  hand  by  the  neck  cloth. 

" You're  safe?"  she  whispered. 

"Yes.  Go  back  to  bed.  Don't  you  understand — if 
anyone  came ?" 

"I  don't  care."  Her  curiosity  had  triumphed.  She 
leaned  forward  and  saw  that  it  was  John  Rizzio. 

"Rizzio!"  she  whispered.     "My  room!" 

"I  ought  to  kill  him,  Doris,"  said  Cyril  savagely, 
"but  I've  only  choked  him  a  little.  He'll  come  around 
in  a  minute."  And  then  more  quietly:  "Get  me  a 
glass  of  water,  but  don't  make  a  fuss,  and  don't  make 
a  light.  There  are  men  outside." 

She  obeyed,  and  in  a  moment  Rizzio  revived  and  sat 
up,  Cyril  standing  over  him,  his  fist  clenched. 

"Oh,  let  him  go,  Cyril,  please,"  Doris  pleaded. 

At  the  sound  of  the  girl's  voice  Rizzio  started  and 
with  Cyril's  help  struggled  to  his  feet. 

"Yes,  he's  going  the  way  he  came — by  the  window," 
growled  Hammersley.  "Head  first,  if  I  have  my  way." 

Rizzio  succeeded  in  a  smile,  though  he  was  still 
struggling  for  breath. 

"I  suppose — I — I  must  thank  you  for  your  gener- 
osity, Hammersley,"  he  said  with  as  fine  a  return  of  his 
composure  as  his  throat  permitted.  "I  have  been 
guilty  of — of  an  error  in  judgment 

"I'm  sorry  you  think  it's  only  that,"  said  Cyril  dryly. 
"Now  go,"  he  whispered  threateningly,  pointing  to  the 
;window. 

93 


THE  YELLOW  DOFE 


"In  a  moment — with  your  permission,"  he  said,  re- 
covering his  suavity  with  his  breath.  "In  extenuation 
of  this  visit,  terrible  as  it  seems  to  Miss  Mather,  I — 
I  can  only  say  that  if  I  had  succeeded  I  would  have 
saved  her  from  remembering  some  day  that  she  had 
given  England's  secrets  into  the  hands  of  the  enemy." 

"You're  mistaken,"  said  Doris  quietly.  "I  have 
burned  them." 

"You — you  burned  them?" 

"Yes— tonight." 

Rizzio  peered  at  her  in  silence  for  a  long  moment 
and  then  shrugged.  "Oh,"  he  said,  "in  that  case,  I 
have  made  two  errors  in  judgment " 

"You'll  make  a  third,  if  you're  not  out  of  that  win- 
dow in  half  a  second,"  said  Cyril. 

But  Rizzio  laughed  at  him. 

"I  don't  think  it  would  be  wise  to  make  a  disturb- 
ance  "  he  said  coolly.  "I  think  Miss  Mather  will 

admit  my  generosity  to  herself  and  to  you  when  I  say 
that  I've  only  to  raise  my  voice  and  have  half  a  dozen 
men  up  here  in  a  moment." 

Doris  clutched  him  fearfully  by  the  arm,  thinking 
of  Cyril. 

"You'd  not  do  that ?" 

Hammersley  laughed  dryly. 

"There's  no  danger,"  he  said. 

"No,"  returned  Rizzio  with  a  touch  of  his  old  mag- 
nificence. "There  is  no  danger  of  that — the  reasons 
are  obvious." 

As  he  moved  toward  the  window  Hammersley 
touched  him  lightly  on  the  arm. 

"I  warn  you,  Rizzio,"  he  said  in  a  low  concentrated 
tone,  "that  you're  playing  a  dangerous  hand.  I  should 

punish  you — but  other  agencies " 

94 


Rizzio  halted.  "Yes,  other  agencies "  he  replied 

significantly.  He  bowed  in  the  girl's  direction  and  sit- 
ting on  the  window-sill  he  threw  his  feet  outside.  "I 
bid  you  good  night."  And  carefully  feeling  for  his 
footing  he  slowly  descended. 

Cyril  Hammersley  followed  him  to  the  window,  and 
Doris  took  a  step  in  his  direction,  when  her  thinly 
slippered  foot  touched  something  in  the  wooden  floor 
• — something  which  slid  upon  the  polished  surface  from 
the  shadow  into  the  moonlight.  Instinctively  she 
glanced  down  and  then  started — scarcely  restraining  a 
gasp.  There,  unmistakable  in  the  shape  and  color  for 
so  many  hours  graven  on  her  mind,  was  a  yellow  packet 
of  Riz-la-Croix  cigarette  papers.  She  glanced  at  Cyril, 
who  was  closing  the  casement  window,  then  stooped 
and,  picking  up  the  packet,  fled  noiselessly  into  her 
room  and  quickly  locked  the  door. 


EVIDENCE 

INSIDE  her  own  room  she  stood  for  a  moment 
tremulously  in  the  dark,  fingering  the  guilty 
thing  in  her  hands  as  she  had  fingered  the  other 
one — the  one  she  had  destroyed.  Or  hadn't  she  de- 
stroyed it?  For  a  moment  the  thought  came  to  her 
that  Cyril  had  practiced  some  trick  upon  her  when 
they  had  knelt  before  the  fire,  substituting  other  pa- 
pers for  the  ones  that  were  to  be  burned.  But  that 
was  impossible.  The  papers  had  not  touched  his  fin- 
gers. He  it  was  who  had  made  a  hole  for  them  in  the 
fire,  but  her  fingers  had  thrust  the  original  papers  into 
the  glowing  coals.  She  turned  the  packet  over  and 
over  in  her  fingers,  glancing  at  the  closed  door  that 
separated  her  from  Cyril.  Another  message!  It 
must  be. 

She  pulled  the  curtains  at  the  window  and  then  mov- 
ing quietly  to  the  bed,  lit  the  candle  on  the  night- 
stand.  Another  packet  of  Riz-la-Croix,  new  like  the 
other,  with  its  tiny  thin  rubber  band.  She  opened  it 
quickly  and  scanned  its  pages,  finding  what  she  sought 
without  difficulty.  The  writing  was  not  in  the  same 
hand.  It  was  rounder  and  less  minute,  covering  in  all 
seven  pages,  and  it  was  written  carelessly  as  if  the 
writer  had  been  in  a  hurry.  Cyril's  own  handwriting 
it  seemed.  The  purport  of  its  message  was  the 
same. 

No.     She  remembered  the  dates.     These  were  some- 

96 


irhat  different.  The  names  of  the  regiments  were  the 
same,  but  the  dates  instead  of  days  in  April  and  May 
gave  days  in  the  months  of  June  and  July.  And  the 
numerals  which  at  first  had  puzzled  her  were  smaller* 
For  instance,  among  "Highland  Regiments  Foot"  the 
numerals  of  which  she  remembered  particularly,  in- 
stead of  120,000  she  saw  the  numerals  42,000.  It  was 
the  same  under  other  headings  in  the  remainder  of  the 
items.  Under  "shrapnel"  there  were  changes,  and 
under  "artillery" 

She  closed  the  packet  in  icy  fingers,  for  the  figures 
swam  before  her  eyes.  They  were  all  true — all  the 
horrible  things  that  she  had  thought  of  Cyril!  This 
was  later  and  more  accurate  information — the  exact 
reason  for  which  she  did  not  pretend  to  understand — • 
and  was  intended  to  follow  the  previous  message — 
perhaps  to  be  used  as  a  code  in  connection  with  it. 

Cyril  was Oh,  the  dishonor  of  it!  And  she  had 

gone  to  sleep  almost  ready  to  believe  in  him  again — 
because  he  had  let  her  burn  the  other  papers.  What 
did  it  matter  to  him  whether  she  burned  the  papers 
when  he  had  other  messages  to  send  and  had  com- 
mitted to  memory  the  facts  he  had  let  her  destroy? 
He  had  lied  to  her.  He  was  false  as  Judas  and  more 
dangerous,  for  now  she  knew  that  he  was  desperate  as 
.well  as  cunning,  stooping  to  any  means,  no  matter 
how  ignoble,  to  gain  his  ends.  She  had  been  a  mere 
bauble  in  his  hands,  a  child  upon  whose  credulity  he 
had  played  without  scruple.  He  had  used  her,  the 
woman  he  had  said  he  loved,  for  his  own  unworthy 
ends  as  he  used  Betty  Heathcote  and  her  house.  She 
was  filled  with  shame  for  him  and  for  herself,  who  could 
love  something  shameful. 

And  John  Rizzio!  Rizzio,  Cyril's  enemy,  stood  for 

97 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


England  and  right,  and  she  had  permitted  herself  to 
see  through  Cyril's  eyes  just  as  Cyril  had  wanted  her 
to  see. 

It  seemed  as  she  compared  them  that  Rizzio's  no- 
bility attained  a  firmer  contour.  He  had  come  to  her 
room  to  save  her  from  her  own  ignorance  and  wilful- 
ness,  from  committing  a  crime,  the  greatest  of  all 
crimes  against  England.  Rizzio  knew  what  Cyril  was 
and  on  her  account  had  refrained  from  giving  Cyril 
up  to  the  officers  of  the  law,  although  they  were  within 
call — even  when  he  felt  himself  yielding  to  the  fury  of 
Cyril's  superior  physical  strength.  Not  even  the  spirit 
of  revenge  for  the  punishment  Cyril  had  given  him, 
not  even  the  humiliation  he  had  suffered  before  her 
eyes  had  been  enough  to  make  him  forget  his  intention 
to  save,  if  he  could,  for  the  woman  who  loved  him,  a 
successful  rival.  And  she,  Doris,  had  stood  by  Cyril's 
side  warm  in  Cyril's  cause,  against  the  one  man  who 
held  Cyril's  fate  as  the  bearer  of  treacherous  mes- 
sages, in  his  hand. 

There  was  still  danger  in  the  air.  The  last  words 
of  the  two  men  to  each  other  had  been  hidden  threats 
of  "other  agencies,"  whatever  they  were,  and  she  found 
herself  praying  in  a  whisper  that  the  agency  of  Eng- 
land, even  if  it  meant  Cyril's  danger,  might  conquer. 
O  God!  It  would  have  been  better,  it  seemed,  if  the 
bullet  at  Saltham  Rocks  that  had  grazed  Cyril's  arm 
had  killed  him.  That  death  would  at  least  have  been 
free  from  the  shame  of  that  which  awaited  Captain 
Byfield. 

She  gazed  with  wide  eyes  at  her  guttering  candle. 
She  was  wishing  for  Cyril's  death!  She  shivered  with 
pity  for  herself  and  for  him  and  huddled  down  in  the 
bed,  a  very  small,  very  miserable  object,  seeking  in 

98 


EVIDENCE 


vain  some  hope,  some  rest  for  her  mind  amid  the  tor- 
ture of  her  thoughts. 

Suddenly  she  started  up  and  sat  clutching  the  yellow 
packet  to  her  breast,  her  gaze  fixed  on  the  door  into 
Cyril's  room.  Had  she  heard  a  knock?  Or  was  it 
only  imagination?  Yes.  There  it  was  again.  She 
leaned  over  hurriedly  and  blew  out  the  candle  and  lay 
very  still,  her  teeth  chattering  with  the  cold,  her  body 
trembling.  He  was  knocking  again,  a  little  louder 
this  time,  and  she  heard  his  voice  through  the  keyhole 
whispering  her  name.  She  made  no  response  and 
feigned  sleep.  He  knocked  again  still  louder  and  she 
heard  her  name  spoken  quite  distinctly.  He  would 
awaken  the  house  if  this  went  on.  When  he  knocked 
again  she  got  up  and  went  over  to  the  door. 

"Doris !"  he  was  saying. 

She  answered  him. 

"Will  you  open  the  door — just  a  crack?" 

"No,"  she  whispered. 

"I  want  to  speak  to  you." 

"You  cannot." 

"Please." 

"I'm  listening.    What  do  you  want  to  say?" 

"I've  lost  something — something  that  must  have 
fallen  from  my  pocket." 

She  was  silent. 

And  then  in  quick  anxious  tones : 

"You  didn't  see — anythin' — on  the  floor  by  the 
door?" 

"No,"  she  lied,  trembling.     "I  didn't." 

She  heard  him  mutter. 

"You're  sure?"  came  his  voice  again. 

"Yes." 

And  then  in  dubious  tones: 

99 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


"Oh,  very  well  then.  Sorry  to  have  troubled  you. 
Good  night." 

She  didn't  reply  and  stole  back  through  the  dark- 
ness to  her  bed,  into  which  she  crept,  like  some  thin 
wraith  of  vengeance,  biding  her  time. 

Into  bed,  but  not  to  sleep.  She  watched  the  moon- 
light grow  pale  into  the  west  and  saw  the  first  gray 
streaks  of  dawn  paint  the  wooded  slopes  of  Ben  Dar- 
rah  across  the  valley  of  the  Dorth.  In  pity  for  her- 
self and  Cyril  she  watched  the  new  day  born,  a  new 
day,  bleak  and  cheerless,  which  seemed  by  its  very 
aspect  to  pronounce  a  sentence  upon  them ;  the  new 
day  which  was  to  mark  the  passing  of  all  the  things 
growing  womanhood  holds  most  dear,  her  first  faith, 
her  first  tenderness,  her  first  passion. 

Doris  kept  to  her  room  until  Betty  came  in,  awak- 
ening her  from  a  heavy  sleep  into  which  she  had  fallen 
just  before  sunrise.  Lady  Heathcote  rang  for  Wilson 
and  then  retired  to  the  ministrations  of  her  own  maid, 
leaving  Doris  to  dress  for  the  morning  at  her  leisure. 
And  when  the  girl  got  downstairs  to  breakfast  she 
found  that  the  other  guests  had  preceded  her.  But 
Betty  Heathcote  was  still  in  the  breakfast  room  pick- 
ing with  dainty  fingers  at  the  various  dishes  upon  the 
sideboard  and  making  sparkling  comment  as  was  her 
custom  on  men  and  things.  She  found  the  disappear- 
ance of  John  Rizzio,  bag,  baggage  and  man,  from  Kil- 
marock  House  without  even  a  line  to  his  hostess  both 
unusual  and  surprising,  since  her  guest  was  a  man  who 
made  much  of  the  amenities  and  forms  of  proper  be- 
havior. Doris  commented  in  a  desultory  way,  trying 
to  put  on  an  air  of  cheerfulness,  aware  of  Cyril  Ham- 
mersley  somewhere  in  the  background  awaiting  the 
chance  to  speak  to  her  alone.  She  did  not  hurry,  and 

100 


EVIDENCE 


when  Betty  arose  sauntered  into  the  library  where  the 
other  guests  were  waiting  for  the  horses  to  come 
around.  Twice  Cyril  tried  to  speak  to  her,  but  she 
avoided  him  skillfully,  contriving  to  be  a  part  of  a 
group  where  personal  topics  were  not  to  be  discussed. 
That  kind  of  maneuvering  she  knew  was  a  game  at 
which  any  woman  is  more  than  a  match  for  any  man. 
But  she  saw  by  the  cloud  that  was  growing  in  Cyril's 
eyes  that  he  was  not  in  the  mood  to  be  put  off  with 
excuses,  and  realized  that  the  sooner  the  pain  of  their 
interview  was  over,  the  better  it  would  be  for  both  of 
them.  She  was  dressed  in  the  long  coat  and  breeches 
which  she  wore  in  the  hunting  field,  and  in  her  waist- 
coat pocket  was  the  yellow  packet. 

"I've  got  to  see  you  for  half  an  hour  alone,"  he 
said  at  last,  taking  the  bull  by  the  horns. 

"I  shall  miss  my  ride." 

"They're  taking  the  long  road  to  Ben-a-Chielt.  I'll 
take  you  there  in  the  motor  and  send  your  mount  on 
by  a  groom." 

She  acquiesced  with  a  cool  shrug  which  put  him  at 
once  upon  his  guard,  but  Doris  had  reached  a  pass 
when  all  she  wanted  was  to  bring  their  relations  to  an 
end  as  speedily  and  with  as  little  pain  as  possible. 
So  that  when  the  others  had  gone  she  sank  into  a  chair 
before  the  fire,  coldly  asking  him  what  he  wanted.  He 
stood  with  his  back  to  the  hearth,  his  hands  clasped 
behind  him,  in  a  long  moment  of  silence  as  though  try- 
ing to  find  the  words  to  begin. 

"Well?"  she  asked  insolently. 

"What  has  happened  since  last  night  to  change  you 
so,  Doris?" 

"I've  had  a  chance  to  think." 

"Of  what?" 

101 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


"That  it  was  time  you  and  I  had  an  understanding." 

"I  don't  see " 

"Wait!"  she  commanded,  with  a  wave  of  the  hand. 
"There  isn't  anything  that  }7ou  can  say  that  will  make 
me  change  my  mind.  Therefore  the  sooner  this  talk 
is  over  the  better  for  both  of  us.  I've  told  you  and 
you  know  already  that  my  whole  soul  is  wrapped  in 
the  cause  of  England  in  this  war.  I  can  have  nothing 
but  pity  and  contempt  for  any  Englishman — 

She  paused,  for  at  this  moment,  the  parlor  maid 
appeared  and,  gathering  up  some  brasses  on  Lady 
Heathcote's  desk,  went  out  of  the  room. 

"I  beg  that  you  will  be  more  careful,  Doris,"  Cyril 
whispered. 

She  was  silent  a  moment,  and  then  after  a  glance  at 
the  dining-room  door,  went  on  with  more  restraint. 

"Pity  and  contempt  are  hardly  the  kind  of  ingredi- 
ents that  love  can  live  on.  They've  poisoned  mine. 
It's  dead.  I  don't  want  to  see  you  again,"  she  finished 
coldly — -"ever.  I  hope  you  understand." 

He  bowed  his  head  and  for  a  moment  made  no  reply. 

"I  asked "  he  said  slowly,  "I  hoped — that  you 

would  be  willin*  to  trust  me — that  you'd  wait  until  I 
was  able  to  speak  to  you — to  explain  the — the  things 
you  do  not  understand." 

"Unfortunately,"  she  put  in  distinctly,  "there  is 
nothing  that  I  do  not  understand.  I  know — God  help 
you! — what  you  are.  I  have  done  what  I  can  to  save 
you  from  the  fate  you're  courting — and  I  shall  still  do 
so,  for  the  sake  of — of  what  once  was — was  between 
us.  But  I  do  not  want  to  see  you  again.  I  have  put 
you  out  of  my  life — completely — as  though  you  never 
had  been  in  it.  And  now,"  she  rose,  "will  you  let 
me  go?" 

102 


EVIDENCE 


"One  moment,  please,"  he  said  calmly.  "You  found 
those  papers  last  night?" 

"Yes,"  she  said  coolly.     "And  if  I  did?" 

He  seemed  to  breathe  more  freely. 

"I  have  nothing  to  say,"  he  muttered. 

"Oh,"  she  said  quickly,  "I'm  glad  of  that.  Yon 
don't  deny ?" 

"I  deny  nothing,"  he  said  with  a  shrug.  "I  see  that 
it  would  be  useless." 

"I'm  glad  you  give  me  credit  for  that  much  intelli- 
gence," she  said  scathingly.  "You  haven't  done  so 
before." 

"It  was  not  your  intelligence,"  he  said  gently,  "so 
much  as  your  heart  that  I  had  relied  upon." 

"Oh,  you  thought  I  was  a  fool  that  you  could  use — • 
indefinitely " 

"No.  I  thought  you  were  a  woman  that  I  could 
count  on  indefinitely." 

Something  in  the  tone  of  his  own  voice  made  her 
turn  and  look  at  him. 

"A  woman — yes,  but  not  an  enemy  of  England." 

He  was  silent  again,  and  when  he  spoke  it  was  not 
to  argue.  His  voice  was  subdued — shamed  even  it 
seemed. 

"And  now — I  suppose  you  will  give  the — the  papers 
to  Sandys,"  he  said. 

She  examined  him  closely  and  pity  for  him  seemed 
even  stronger  than  shame. 

"It  is  a  part  of  our  misunderstanding,"  she  said 
coolly,  "that  you  should  think  so  little  of  me.  I  have 
told  you  that  I  shall  protect  you.  My  hands  shall  be 
clean,  if  my  heart  isn't." 

"What  will  you  do  with  the  papers?"  he  asked. 

"This,"  and  she  turned  toward  him — "burn  them." 
103 


THE  YELLOW  DOFE 


She  put  her  hand  into  her  pocket,  drew  out  the  papers 
and  went  toward  the  hearth.  Her  hand  was  even  ex- 
tended toward  the  fire  when,  with  a  quick  movement, 
he  snatched  the  yellow  packet  from  her  fingers. 

She  fell  away  from  him  in  dismay,  as  if  she  had  been 
touched  by  something  poisonous,  touching  her  wrist 
and  the  fingers  into  which  her  rings  had  been  driven. 
Then  she  hid  her  face  in  her  hands  and  closed  her  eyes. 

"Oh!"  she  gasped.  "You'd  pay  my  generosity — 
with  this!" 

He  had  examined  the  papers  coolly  and  had  put 
them  into  his  pocket. 

"I?  I  don't  count  in  a  game  like  this — nor  do  you. 
I'm  sorry.  They  were  mine.  You  took  them.  I  had 
to  have  them." 

"Then  this "  she  stammered,  "this  was  what  you 

kept  me  here  for?" 

"I  had  to  have  them,"  he  repeated  dully.  That  was 
all.  Her  wrist  and  fingers  burned  where  he  had  hurt 
them.  A  brute — a  coward — as  well  as  a  traitor.  She 
straightened  proudly  and  with  a  look  at  his  bowed 
head,  she  went  by  him  and  out  of  the  room. 

Hammersley  stood  as  she  had  left  him  for  a  moment 
and  only  raised  his  head  when  the  parlor  maid  came  in 
again  and  replaced  the  brasses  on  Lady  Heathcote's 
desk.  In  his  eyes  there  came  a  keen  look  and  he  took 
a  step  forward. 

"Do  you  always  clean  Lady  Heathcote's  brasses  on 
Friday?"  he  asked  the  maid. 

She  turned  around  with  a  startled  air. 

"Oh,  yes,  sir,"  she  replied  demurely.     "Friday,  sir." 

"Oh !"  said  Hammersley.    "Thanks." 

She  stood  a  moment  as  if  awaiting  further  questions 
and  then  went  out. 

104 


EVIDENCE 


Hammersley  followed  her  with  his  gaze  and  then 
with  a  last  look  around  the  room  went  into  the  hall,  put 
on  his  fur  coat  and  cap  and  quickly  made  his  way  to- 
ward the  garage. 

Upstairs  Doris  paced  her  room  in  an  agony  of  rage 
and  humiliation.  She  had  meant  to  give  him  his  dis- 
missal kindly,  but  it  was  his  abjectness  that  had  made 
her  scornful — abjectness  worn  as  she  now  knew  with 
an  object  that  was  indifferent  to  scorn.  It  was  only 
with  the  purpose  of  getting  the  papers  from  her  that 
he  had  kept  her  there,  and  the  contempt  that  she  had 
shown  for  him  seemed  but  a  piteous  thing  beside  the 
enormity  of  his  brutality.  He  had  not  cared  what 
she  thought  of  him.  He  had  not  cared.  He  had  said 
so  himself.  Their  love  was  a  trifle  beside  the  greater 
matter  that  concerned  him. 

He  had  led  her  on  under  the  guise  of  a  shame  he  did 
not  feel,  from  one  revelation  to  another,  playing  upon 
her  emotions,  upon  things  which  should  have  been 
sacred  even  to  him  in  such  an  hour  until  with  infinite 
cunning  he  had  made  her  bring  out  the  papers — and 
then 

Rage  possessed  her.  She  felt  that  she  had  been 
tricked — with  weapons  that  he  should  have  scorned  to 
use.  She  hated  him  at  that  moment,  not  as  she  hated 
the  secrecy  and  dishonor  of  his  cause,  but  as  a  man 
who  could  take  advantage  of  a  woman,  as  a  hypocrite, 
a  coward,  a  bully. 

She  knew  the  fury  of  Dido,  but  she  felt  the  pain  of 
Ariadne  too.  She  heard  the  sound  of  his  roadster  and 
ran  to  the  window,  peering  dark-eyed  through  the  mus- 
lin curtains,  and  saw  him  go  by  under  her  windows, 
low  down  in  his  seat,  his  gaze  fixed  on  the  road  ahead, 
driving  fast,  Stryker  beside  him.  He  passed  without 
8  105 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


even  a  glance  upward  or  back — out  of  her  life.  It 
seemed  to  her  that  if  he  had  turned  his  head  just  then 
and  given  one  look  at  the  house  even,  she  could  have 
forgiven  him  much,  but  she  watched  him  until  he  turned 
the  angle  of  the  road  and  was  gone. 

Their  interview  had  seemed  so  brief — in  all  it  seemed 
scarcely  more  than  a  moment — to  have  made  such  a 
horrible  change  in  her  way  of  looking  at  things.  If 
he  had  protested  innocence,  fought,  if  even  so  weakly, 
against  her  evidence,  fought  with  a  man's  strength 
against  odds  the  danger  of  losing  the  woman  he  wanted, 
she  could  have  seen  him  go  with  a  calmness  born  of 
woman's  inherent  right  to  dismiss.  But  this — 
Death  surely  was  no  worse  than  for  a  woman  to  be 
spurned  by  such  a  man. 

After  a  while  tears  came,  and  they  helped  her,  tears 
of  anger,  if  you  will,  but  tears,  soft  and  humid,  in 
"which  to  a  woman  there  is  always  a  kind  of  bitter 
sweetness,  too.  She  threw  herself  on  her  bed  in  her 
riding  togs,  her  mannish  coat  and  mannish  boots,  elo- 
quent of  their  own  pretensions.  In  spite  of  them  and 
the  things  they  typified  she  was  merely  a  very  tired 
little  girl,  weeping  her  heart  out  as  other  little  girls 
had  done  before  and  will  again,  because  her  lover  had 
gone  away  from  her. 

Toward  luncheon  time  when  the  others  were  expected 
to  return  she  got  up,  bathed  her  eyes  and,  summoning 
Wilson,  changed  into  a  dress  for  the  afternoon.  Pride 
came  to  her  rescue  now,  and  with  the  help  of  her  maid 
and  the  mysterious  process  with  which  maids  are  fa- 
miliar she  managed  to  make  herself  presentable  enough 
to  avoid  notice  from  so  keen  an  observer  as  her  hostess. 
Doris  found  herself  smiling,  and  doing  her  share  of 
conversation  in  a  mechanical  way  which  left  a  ques- 

lOfi 


EVIDENCE 


tion  in  her  mind  as  to  the  depth  of  her  own  emotions. 
But  the  weight  about  her  heart,  the  dull  echo  of  re- 
iterated thoughts  pervaded  all  and  she  knew  that  it 
was  merely  that  her  spirit  was  dulled,  her  heart  numb, 
like  a  nerve  from  the  shock  of  a  blow.  She  stole  away 
when  she  could  with  a  book  to  the  gun-room,  where 
she  could  sit  alone  and  try  to  put  her  thoughts  in 
order. 


CHAPTER    IX 

THE  VIKING'S   TOWER 

THERE  in  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  the  butler 
brought  her  a  note.     For  a  moment  before 
she  read  the  superscription,  a  wild  rush  of 
something  which  might  have  been  joy  yet  could  not  be, 
sent  a  pale  flush  of  color  into  her  cheek.     But  she 
glanced  at  the  envelope  carelessly,  and  when  the  man 
had  gone,  quickly  opened  it. 

It  was  from  John  Rizzio,  signed  with  the  familiar 
initials  and  begun  without  either  name  or  qualifica- 
tion: 

You  will  think  it  strange,  perhaps,  that  I  should 
write  to  you  after  the  events  of  last  night,  because 
the  modesty  of  a  woman  is  the  last  thing  that  for- 
gives. My  action  is  beyond  apology  and  I  offer 
none  for  fear  that  it  may  be  construed  into  a  hope 
— a  selfish  hope  of  an  unimaginable  forgiveness. 
Hope  has  passed — that  with  the  others,  but  some- 
thing else  remains,  something  less  selfish  than  hope 
and  more  vital  than  self-interest  and  that  is  a  whole- 
hearted wish  that  your  honor  may  be  kept  free 
from  the  taint  of  the  dark  and  furtive  things  with 
which  it  has  come  into  contact. 

I  am  not  a  man,  as  you  know,  to  boast  of  disin- 
terestedness. I  have  lived  a  life  in  which  my  own 
affairs  were  always  paramount,  my  own  aims  always 
most  important.  I  am  telling  you  this  to  warn  you 
that  my  generosity  to  Hammersley  is  not  actuated 
by  any  love  of  a  man  who  has  spoiled  my  dearest 
108 


THE  VIKING'S  TOWER 


ambition,  but  by  the  continued  esteem  with  which  I 
still  regard  yourself.  I  do  not  love  him;  and  my 
own  wish,  my  duty,  my  own  honor,  my  loyalty  to 
England  all  acclaim  that  he  should  be  delivered  at 
once  to  those  in  authority.  And  yet  I  have  refrained 

— for  you,  Doris.     But  I  have  learned  that  H 

is  in  communication  with  G and  that  Crenshaw 

of  Scotland  Yard  is  on  the  alert.  I  may  not  be  able 
to  save  him. 

This  is  an  appeal  to  the  one  person  who  has  the 
most  influence  with  him  and  I  ask  that  you  use  what- 
ever power  over  him  you  possess  to  bring  him  to 
a  sense  of  the  impossibility  of  his  mad  plans.  If 
you  still  have  doubt  as  to  the  character  of  the  work 
he  has  undertaken,  I  ask  that  you  go  to  Ben-a-Chielt 
tonight  and  listen  secretly  to  convincing  proof  of 
what  he  is.  For  tonight  at  one  o'clock  on  the  cliffs 
near  the  old  Viking's  Tower,  he  will  meet  a  per- 
sonal messenger  from  G . 

I  appeal  to  you  for  England — but  more  than  for 
England,  for — yourself. 

Yours, 

J.  R. 

Doris  read  the  note  through  again  and  again,  her 
thoughts  blurring  unpleasantly,  like  a  photograph  out 
of  focus.  It  seemed  impossible  that  she  could  do  what 
he  asked  of  her.  Every  instinct,  wounded  and  sore 
from  her  last  encounter,  revolted  at  the  thought  of  • 
meeting  Cyril  again  under  the  conditions  presented. 
It  was  impossible  that  she  should  go.  Cyril  would 
only  laugh  at  her  or,  what  would  be  worse,  show  her 
the  callousness  and  brutality  that  he  had  done  this 
morning.  Rizzio  asked  her  to  do  what  she  could. 
Why  should  she  save  him?  What  had  he  done  to 
merit  such  a  sacrifice  of  pride  on  her  part.  The  past? 

109 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


That  was  dead  and  Cyril  buried  with  it.  England? 
She  put  her  head  forward  into  her  hands  and  pressed 
her  fingers  to  her  temples.  England! 

As  the  afternoon  faded  into  night  the  conviction 
grew  in  Doris's  mind  that  the  situation  made  personal 
considerations  unimportant.  After  dinner  she  excused 
herself  and,  dressing  warmly,  toward  twelve  o'clock 
went  downstairs  past  the  library  door  and  out  to  the 
stables.  She  found  a  sleepy  groom  and,  giving  him  a 
liberal  fee  as  the  price  of  his  silence,  had  a  side-saddle 
put  on  a  good  horse  and  made  her  way  in  the  direction 
of  Ben-a-Chielt.  She  knew  the  road  well,  for  she  had 
traveled  it  many  times  with  Cyril  and  Betty  during 
the  previous  summer  when  all  the  world  was  gay  and 
she  and  Cyril  were  lovers.  She  was  a  little  nervous 
at  being  alone  on  the  moor  in  the  darkness,  but  not 
frightened.  She  gave  herself  greater  hardihood  by 
trying  to  remember  that  Cyril  and  Rizzio  were  gentle- 
men, one  of  whom  she  had  thought  she  could  have 
trusted  with  her  life,  the  other  a  friend  who  wanted  to 
be  trusted  with  it — and  now  protested  he  held  her 
honor  dearer  than  his  own.  Not  her  enemies  surely; 
and  the  thought  of  physical  harm  from  either  of  them, 
the  only  thing  that  could  have  deterred  her  from  this 
midnight  venture,  did  not  occur  to  her.  But  as  she 
i  came  to  Saltham  Rocks,  the  scene  of  Cyril's  last  night's 
encounter,  she  pressed  forward  more  rapidly  with  a 
keen  eye  upon  the  gray  blur  of  the  road.  She  reached 
the  cross-roads,  her  breath  coming  a  little  more  rap- 
idly, pulled  her  horse  down  to  a  walk  and  turned  in 
upon  Cyril's  property,  going  forward  more  slowly. 
Until  the  present  moment  she  had  formulated  no  plan 
of  action,  nor  had  counted  upon  the  possibilities  of 
discovery,  so  she  rode  cautiously,  making  a  long  de- 

110 


THE  VIKING'S  TOWEE 


tour  across  the  moor  to  avoid  the  lights  of  one  of  the 
keepers'  houses  which  stood  upon  the  road.  She  found 
that  she  had  to  choose  her  way  among  the  rocks  and 
whins,  but  her  horse  was  sure-footed,  and  at  a  walk 
there  was  little  danger  of  a  cropper.  She  kept  the 
road  in  sight  and  by  the  fitful  light  of  the  stars,  be- 
tween the  rack  of  mist  and  clouds  that  were  coming 
in  from  the  sea,  she  made  her  way  in  the  general  di- 
rection of  the  Lodge.  On  her  right  she  had  glimpses 
of  the  sea  beyond  the  cliffs  and  heard  the  pounding  of 
the  surf  upon  the  rocks  and  shingle.  The  Viking's 
Tower  was  up  among  the  rocks  near  Beaufort  Head, 
half  a  mile  beyond  the  house.  She  had  been  there  with 
Cyril  many  times,  and  from  the  ruined  wall  had  sat 
with  him  and  looked  out  over  the  North  Sea,  while  he 
had  told  her  in  his  sportive  vernacular  the  story  of 
the  tower  and  of  the  "Johnnies"  who  had  built  it.  It 
was  difficult  to  identify  that  Cyril  now  with  the  man 
of  mystery  lurking  out  here  somewhere  in  the  dark, 
his  mind  set  on  the  odious  business  of  betraying  his 
country. 

The  Lodge  was  set  inland  from  the  sea  in  a  valley 
between  two  ridges  which  narrowed  down  to  a  fissure 
in  the  rocks  that  fell  away  to  Beaufort  Cove,  a  small 
harbor  almost  land-locked  where  Cyril  kept  his  motor- 
boats  and  sloop.  As  the  girl  approached  the  Lodge, 
she  turned  far  to  the  left  and  made  a  wide  circle 
among  the  hills,  so  that  there  could  be  no  chance  of 
inquisitive  eyes  discovering  the  bold  silhouette  of  her 
horse  against  the  sky.  Slowly  she  climbed  the  lower 
ridges  of  Ben-a-Chielt  until  she  reached  a  level  spot, 
high  above  the  house,  garage,  stables  and  hangar, 
where  she  stopped  for  a  moment  to  rest  her  winded 
horse. 

Ill 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


Below  her  a  wild  panorama  of  land  and  wind-blown 
sky,  the  ragged  profile  of  black  rocks  etched  deep  into 
the  sullen  gray  of  the  sea.  Seen  from  this  height  the 
contours  were  unfamiliar  to  her  and  the  purpose  of 
her  grim  visit  gave  the  grim  vista  a  dramatic  signifi- 
cance that  was  almost  theatrical.  Long  lines  emerged 
from  the  dark  blur  of  sea  and  sky  and  roared  in  upon 
the  rocks  that  guarded  the  harbor  upon  which  they 
were  shivered  into  foam.  Inside  the  rim  of  rocks  the 
placid  cove  calmly  reflected  the  sky.  She  saw  the 
motor-boats  near  the  landing,  made  out  the  specter 
lines  of  Cyril's  sloop,  the  Wmdbird,  and  in  the  shadow 
of  the  cliffs  saw  another  vessel,  the  lines  of  which  were 
unfamiliar.  This  craft  was  long  and  slender  with  a 
wireless  mast  and  two  large  smoke-stacks.  No  lights 
showed  aboard  of  her,  but  there  were  signs  of  activity, 
for  while  the  girl  looked  a  small  boat  was  lowered  and 
was  pulled  for  the  landing;  and  suddenly  the  real 
meaning  of  this  dark  vessel  was  borne  to  her.  There 
was  no  mistaking  the  grim  profile  of  the  thing  that 
projected  from  the  forward  superstructure  and  the 
curving  decks  which  met  the  water  in  such  slender 
lines.  It  was  a  war-vessel,  a  destroyer,  and  the  man 
who  was  putting  out  for  the  shore  was  the  German 
messenger  who  was  to  meet  Cyril  Hammersley  at  Ben- 
a-Chielt.  She  trembled  and  clung  to  the  pommel  of  her 
saddle.  The  brief  joyous  moments  that  had  come  to 
her  at  intervals  during  the  evening  as  she  thought  of 
the  inflections  of  Cyril's  voice,  of  the  weary  look  she 
*  had  seen  in  his  eyes,  and  hoped  that  even  tonight  he 
might  be  able  to  justify  himself  in  her  own  thoughts  at 
least  were  engulfed  in  the  damning  conviction  of  what 
she  saw  before  her.  John  Rizzio  had  told  her  the  truth. 
How  he  had  learned  what  was  to  happen,  she  did  not 

112 


THE  VIKING'S  TOWER 


know  or  care,  but  the  accuracy  of  his  information  was 
no  longer  a  matter  to  doubt. 

She  looked  around  her  in  the  darkness  toward  the 
way  by  which  she  had  come,  really  frightened  for  the 
first  time  that  evening  as  at  the  palpable  presence  of 
sin.  For  a  moment  she  hesitated  in  her  intention  to 
go  forward.  She  had  seen  enough  to  convince  her. 
There  was  no  need  of  more.  But  the  real  object  of  her 
mission  nerved  her  to  her  task.  She  must  go  on  at 
once  if  she  wished  to  reach  the  Tower  in  time  to  con- 
ceal herself.  So  she  pressed  her  horse  along  the  hill, 
and  when  she  had  crossed  the  ridge  rode  down  in  a 
path  parallel  to  the  edge  of  the  cliffs,  which  brought 
her  after  a  while  into  a  line  with  Beaufort  Head,  where 
she  could  see  the  dim  mass  of  the  ruin  rising  above  the 
chaos  of  rock  that  surrounded  it. 

When  she  reached  a  spot  not  too  far  distant,  she 
dismounted  in  a  clump  of  bushes  and  fastening  the 
bridle  of  her  horse  to  the  gnarled  limb  of  a  stunted 
tree,  crept  forward  on  foot.  The  excitement  of  the 
venture  and  its  possible  consequences  now  gave  her 
renewed  strength  and  caution.  Moving  to  the  left, 
toward  the  northern  side  of  the  Tower,  she  clambered 
over  the  rocks  toward  the  sea.  There  should  be  plenty 
of  time  to  reach  a  place  of  concealment  before  the 
I  occupant  of  the  boat  had  time  to  climb  the  steep  and 
tortuous  path  from  the  landing,  and  peering  from  side 
to  side,  pausing  from  time  to  time  to  listen,  she  reached 
the  shadow  of  Table  Rock,  a  huge  slab  of  granite 
which  had  been  tossed  by  some  convulsion  of  Nature 
upon  the  very  summit  of  the  Head.  The  physical  con- 
tours of  the  place  made  her  approach  an  easy  one,  for 
the  cliffs  were  strewn  with  bowlders  and  it  was  easy  to 
slip  from  one  to  another  without  detection. 

113 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


Assured  that  the  spot  that  she  had  reached  was  as 
near  the  Tower  as  she  dared  approach  for  the  present, 
she  wedged  herself  into  a  crevice  between  two  rocks, 
into  which  she  might  pass  and  go  out  by  the  other  side, 
and  sank  down  upon  her  knees  and  waited.  The  mo- 
ments passed  slowly.  Where  was  John  Rizzio?  Would 
Cyril  never  come?  She  had  a  moment  of  horror  in  the 
thought  that  the  German  messenger  might  come  and 
discover  her  before  Cyril  arrived.  What  would  he  do 
to  her?  Kill  her,  of  course.  And  in  a  panic  of  sinking 
nerves  she  thought  of  getting  to  her  feet  and  fleeing 
into  the  friendly  darkness  from  which  she  had  come. 
She  had  even  risen  and  her  head  was  just  below  the 
level  of  the  top  of  her  refuge  when  she  heard  footsteps 
close  by  and  got  the  odor  of  a  cigarette.  So  she  sank 
back,  her  hand  at  her  heart  to  quiet  its  throbbings. 

The  footsteps  passed  her,  returned  and  then  went 
toward  the  Tower  and  she  bared  her  head  and  peered 
cautiously  out.  A  tall  figure  in  a  long  coat  and  deer- 
stalker cap  was  standing  watching  the  path  to  the 
landing.  She  could  not  see  his  features,  but  she  knew 
that  it  was  Cyril.  For  one  moment  she  thought  of 
running  to  him  and  throwing  herself  at  his  feet  and 
pleading  with  him  while  there  was  still  time  to  go  away 
into  the  darkness — with  her — anywhere  before  this 
stranger  should  reach  him.  But  her  courage  failed 
her  and  she  sank  back  into  her  corner.  And  when 
she  straightened  again  her  moment  had  passed,  for  she 
heard  other  footsteps  to  her  right  of  a  man  as  he  clam- 
bered up  the  rocks.  He  passed  quite  near  her,  a  burly 
man  in  a  naval  cap  and  coat,  out  of  breath  from  his 
exertions. 

Cyril  came  forward  to  meet  him,  and  she  heard  the 
short  words  of  their  greeting. 

114 


"Herr  Hammersley  ?" 

"Ja." 

She  peered  out  and  saw  the  burly  man  straighten, 
his  heels  together,  and  touch  his  fingers  to  the  rim  of 
his  cap.  Cyril  bowed  and  asked  a  question  and  the 
other  replied  in  a  sentence  that  contained  the  word 
"Hochheit,"  which  was  the  only  word  she  understood. 
She  crept  a  little  closer  so  that  she  could  hear  more 
distinctly,  hoping  that  her  slight  knowledge  of  German 
might  aid  her.  She  watched  Cyril  to  see  if  he  passed 
anything  to  the  German  officer.  Instead  of  this  the 
German  took  a  letter  from  an  inside  pocket  and  handed 
it  to  Cyril,  and  she  heard  the  words  "Hochheit"  again 
and  "Excellenz" — a  message  it  seemed  from  some 
prince,  or  from  some  general  or  high  official  of  the 
German  Government.  Cyril  appeared  to  offer  apol- 
ogies and  broke  the  seal  of  the  envelope,  bringing  from 
the  pocket  of  his  overcoat  an  electric  torch,  by  the  aid 
of  which  he  read  the  letter.  Doris  could  see  his  face 
quite  plainly  in  the  reflected  light  from  the  page,  and 
marked  the  deep  lines  at  his  brows  and  the  stern  look 
at  his  mouth  and  chin.  He  went  over  the  document 
twice  very  carefully,  and  then  as  he  turned  to  his  com- 
panion she  heard  his  voice  saying  quite  distinctly  in 
German: 

"You  know  the  purport  of  this  paper?" 

"No,  Herr  Hammersley,"  said  the  officer.  "My  or- 
ders are  merely  to  deliver  this  letter  which  was  to  re- 
ceive your  acceptance." 

Cyril  paused  for  a  long  moment,  tapping  the  docu- 
ment lightly  with  his  finger  and  then  taking  a  pencil 
from  his  pocket  bent  over  and  upon  the  nearest  rock 
wrote  something.  Then  he  slipped  the  letter  into  its 
envelope  and  handed  it  to  the  other,  who  put  it  into 

115 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


his  pocket,  saluted  again  and  with  a  hurried  farewell 
turned  down  the  path  and  was  gone. 

That  was  all.  The  interview  had  not  lasted  more 
than  five  minutes,  but  Doris  knew  by  the  look  she  had 
seen  on  Cyril's  face  that  danger  threatened.  The  let- 
ter had  contained  a  command,  a  command  from  a 
German  officer  of  high  rank  to  Cyril  Hammersley — a 
spy  receiving  his  orders  from  the  government  he  served. 
If  he  had  gone  back  to  the  Lodge  at  this  moment  she 
would  have  let  him  go  past  her  without  a  word,  for 
the  bitterness  came  back  into  her  heart  and  engulfed 
all  purpose.  She  sat  in  her  place  of  concealment, 
peering  out  at  him,  fascinated.  He  moved  nearer  and 
then  stood,  his  feet  braced  on  the  rocks,  gazing  down 
the  path  by  which  his  midnight  visitor  had  disappeared. 
How  long  he  stood  there  motionless  she  could  not 
know,  but  as  the  moments  passed  and  he  did  not  move, 
she  rose  from  her  cranny,  her  trembling  nerves  seek- 
ing an  outlet  in  motion  or  speech.  Why  didn't  he 
move? 

At  last  her  overtaxed  nerves  could  no  longer  endure 
and  she  came  out  of  the  shadow  and  spoke  his  name. 
Still  he  made  no  motion,  and  she  realized  that  her  lips 
had  made  no  sound.  But  her  foot  touched  a  small 
stone,  which  fell  among  the  rocks,  and  she  saw  him 
wheel  around  and  face  her  quickly,  something  glitter- 
ing in  his  hand,  while  his  voice  rang  sharply. 

"Stand  where  you  are !" 

He  took  a  few  threatening  steps  toward  her,  his 
look  studying  her  small  bulk. 

"It's  I,  Cyril,"  she  said  faintly,  "Doris." 

"You!"  He  glanced  to  right  and  left,  putting  the 
thing  in  his  pocket  and  faced  her,  incredulous.  "What 
are  you  doing  here,  Doris?" 

116 


THE  VIKING'S  TOWER 


"I  came  to — to  see  you  again- 


His  eyes  were  still  searching  the  darkness  around 
them. 

"Who  told  you  to  come  here?" 

"No  one,"  she  lied.     "I  followed  you." 

"Who  saw  you  come?     You  heard?" 

"Yes- "  slowly.  "O  Cyril — I  can't  let  you  go 

from  me  like  this " 

She  put  her  face  to  her  hands  and  felt  his  arms 
enfold  her.  She  trembled,  but  in  this  weakness  a  new 
kind  of  strength  came  to  her.  "I  want  you  to  come 
with  me  away — away  from  all  this — for  me — for  Eng- 
land. It's  my  last  appeal — you  must  not  refuse  it.  I 
—I  want  you  so,  Cyril,  as  it  used  to  be." 

She  felt  his  lips  gently  touch  her  brow  and  heard  his 
[whisper, 

"God  bless  you!" 

She  clung  to  him  desperately,  to  his  caress,  the  one 
sure  symbol  of  his  purity 

"I  love  you,  Cyril,"  she  murmured,  "I  can't  help 
it.  I've  tried  not  to.  But  you  couldn't  kiss  me  like 
this,  reverently,  if  you  did  not  love  me  well  enough  to 
forget  everything  else.  Say  you  do,  dear." 

"I  love  you,"  he  whispered  again.  "But  you  must 
not  stay  here.  You  must " 

"Doesn't  it  mean  something  to  you  that  I  came," 
she  went  on  breathlessly,  "that  I  could  forget — what* 
happened — that  the  love  that  was  in  my  heart  for  you 
was  greater  than  my  hatred  of  what  you  are?  I  came 
so  that  you  could  know  it  by  the  difficulty,  the  danger 
that  I  ran.  I  don't  care  what  others  may  think  of 
me.  The  only  thing  that  matters  is  to  have  you  again. 
You  don't  know  what  it  cost  me  to  come.  I  am  not  the 
kind  to  be  held  so  lightly,  Cyril.  I  have  forgotten  my 

117 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


pride,  even  my  sense  of  what  is  fitting  for  a  girl  to  do, 
in  the  hope  that  you  will  listen  to  me." 

"Yes,"  he  murmured,  "but  not  now,  Doris.  You 
must  go  back." 

"Not  yet "  she  protested. 

"I — I  have  much  to  do "  he  said. 

"That  messenger — O  Cyril — you  mustn't.  Come 
back  with  me — tonight — now " 

"I  can't,"  he  muttered.  "It — it  is  important  for 
me  to  stay  here " 

She  loosened  his  arms  and  stood  away  from  him, 
peering  down  into  the  cove  where  clouds  of  black 
smoke  were  belching  from  the  funnels  of  the  black  ves- 
sel. The  water  of  the  cove  was  churning  in  its  wake 
and  its  prow  was  turning  toward  the  harbor  mouth. 

Suddenly  she  saw  Cyril  start  and  peer  around  him 
in  the  darkness. 

"Who  sent  you  here?"  she  heard  his  voice  in  a 
strangled  whisper  at  her  ear. 

"No  one,"  she  denied  again,  "I  followed  you." 

"That  isn't  possible,  Doris,"  he  said  quickly.  "I 
have  reasons  for  knowing.  You  were  here  before  I 

came.  Rizzio  told  you He  knew  what  was  to 

happen — he  was  the  only  one  who  could  have  known." 

"Why?"  Her  curiosity  sent  all  subterfuge  flying. 
She  could  see  his  pale  face  in  the  moonlight. 

"Because  it  was  Rizzio  who  sent  this  messenger  to 
meet  me." 

"Rizzio!"  The  mystery  was  deepening.  "I  can't 
understand." 

He  hesitated  a  long  moment  before  replying,  as 
though  weighing  something  in  his  mind. 

"I'll  teU  you  this  much,"  he  said  at  last.  "You've 
a  right  to  know.  Rizzio  told  you  that  he  was  an  agent 

118 


THE  VIKING'S  TOWER 


of  the  English  Government.  It's  my  word  against  his. 
You  can  believe  me  or  not  if  you  like.  Rizzio  is  a  spy 
of  Germany!" 

"Impossible!       John     Rizzio "     she     whispered 

aghast. 

He  laughed. 

"The  pot  callin'  the  kettle  black— what?  It's  the 
truth." 

"But  Rizzio!  What  object  would  he  have  in  betray- 
ing England?  A  man  of  his  position!" 

"That's  the  kind  of  men  England's  enemies  want," 
put  in  Cyril  dryly. 

"But  he  has  no  need  of  money.  Not  money.  Im- 
possible !" 

"No,  not  money.  There  are  other  things  that  John 
Rizzio  values  more  than  money." 

"What?" 

He  caught  her  by  the  arm  impressively  to  make  his 
meaning  clear.  "You  don't  know  the  passion  of  col- 
lectors. They  would  sell  their  souls  for  the  things 
they  want.  The  things  that  seem  impossible  are  the 
things  they  want  the  most." 

"But  I  don't  understand." 

"After  the  war  Rizzio  is  to  be  permitted  to  'buy* 
Rubens's  'Descent  from  the  Cross'  from  the  German 
Government." 

"Oh!"  she  gasped  in  horror.  A  new  idea  of  the 
terrible  possibilities  of  duplicity  was  borne  to  her.  But 
she  couldn't  believe. 

"How  do  you  know  this?"  she  asked. 

He  laughed. 

"It's  one  of  the  things  I  stopped  in  London  to  find 
out." 

"Then  you " 

119 


"I  am  a  German  spy." 

"I  don't  believe  you,"  she  cried  proudly.  There 
Was  a  note  of  joy  in  her  voice,  a  momentary  note  which 
seemed  to  trail  off'  into  one  of  terror.  "Cyril!"  she 
whispered.  "Rizzio !  He  wrote  me  to  come  here." 

"I  knew  it." 

"But  he  said  he "  she  hesitated.  "Why  did  h( 

want  me  to  come?  There  must  have  been  some  other 
reasons  besides  wanting  me  to  see — he's  here,  Cyril — • 
somewhere " 

Hammersley  started  and  turned,  his  hand  in  his 
pocket,  and  Doris  followed  his  look.  Three  men  had 
risen  from  among  the  rocks  toward  the  Tower. 

"Don't  move,  Hammersley,"  said  Rizzio's  voice. 
"You're  in  danger,  Doris." 

But  the  girl  was  clinging  to  Cyril's  arm.  "No,  no," 
she  was  crying.  Several  shots  rang  out  as  Cyril  threw 
her  aside,  dashing  forward.  One  of  the  men  seemecf 
to  stumble  among  the  rocks  and  fall  heavily.  The 
other  came  in  toward  Cyril,  his  arm  raised,  but  an- 
other shot  from  behind  the  rocks  made  him  pause,  twist 
half  around,  his  hand  to  his  shoulder  as  Cyril  caught 
him  a  blow  which  sent  him  reeling  to  the  edge  of  the 
cliff,  over  which  he  hung  for  a  moment,  peering  down- 
wards in  horror,  and  then  disappeared  from  view. 

"Well  done,  Stryker,"  she  heard  Cyril  cry.  "The 
other — this  way.  Don't  let  him  get  off." 

And  Stryker  disappeared  after  Rizzio. 


CHAPTER    X 

THE   YELLOW   DOVE 

IN  a  daze  Doris  saw  Cyril  bend  over  the  prostrate 
figure  and  then  come  toward  her. 
"Dead?"  she  whispered  in  horror. 

But  he  didn't  seem  to  hear  her.  He  caught  her  by 
the  arm  and  forcibly  led  her  inland. 

"Dead!"  she  whispered  again.  "It  might  have  been 
you." 

"Or  you,"  she  heard  him  say  sharply. 

"Me?" 

"Yes.     But  it's  my  fault.     I  should  have  guessed." 

"John  Rizzio  would  kill  me.     Oh,  it's  unbelievable  !'9 

"You  know  too  much."  He  gave  a  short  laugh. 
"Far  too  much  for  your  own  good — or  mine."  He 
caught  her  suddenly  by  both  arms  and  made  her  look 
straight  into  his  eyes.  "Doris,  you've  seen  nothing, 
you've  heard  nothing  tonight.  Do  you  understand?" 

His  grasp  on  her  arms  hurt  her  but  she  bore  it  with- 
out a  murmur. 

"Yes,"  she  said. 

"You  swear  it?" 

"Yes,"  faintly,  "I  do." 

"I've  got  to  go  away  from  Ben-a-Chielt  tonight.  I 
can't  tell  you  why.  You've  got  to  go  straight  to  Kil- 
morack  House  now.  You  rode  over.  Take  the  short 
cut  by  Horsham  Hill.  It's  not  so  well  known.  I 
would  go  with  you  but  I  haven't  a  moment  to  spare. 
Don't  trust  anyone — not  even  the  maids  at  the  house. 
9 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


Go  back  to  London  tomorrow  with  Jack  Sandys  and 
don't  let  him  leave  you  until  you're  safe  at  Ashwater 
Park.  Where's  your  horse?" 

She  told  him  and  followed  blindly. 

"Where  are  you  going,  Cyril?"  she  pleaded. 

"It  doesn't  matter." 

He  found  the  horse  and  untied  the  bridle. 

"Tell  me,  Cyril.     I've  earned  the  right  to  know." 

"Something  has  happened,"  he  said  quietly,  "which 
has  put  all  my  plans  in  danger " 

"And  you?" 

"Yes.  The  thing  I've  been  trying  to  do  may  fail. 
It  hangs  or  falls  by  this  issue." 

"But  what— what?" 

"You  can't  know  that,"  he  said  quickly.  "Don't 
ask  me  anything  more.  I  can't  answer.  But  trust  in 
me  if  you  can.  Trust  in  me,  Doris,  and  if  you  love 
me — silence!" 

He  gave  her  a  lift  into  the  saddle  and  kissed  her 
hand.  Then  he  looked  around  him  and  gave  a  parting 
inj  unction. 

"Now  cut  sharp  off  to  the  right  in  the  darkness  until 
you  strike  the  old  sheep  trail.  You  can  see  it  quite 
plainly  in  the  heather.  Follow  it  to  the  head  of  the 
ridge,  then  take  the  road  to  Horsham  Hill.  Good-by 
and  God  bless  you." 

A  sob  rose  in  her  throat  and  she  could  only  wave  a 
hand  in  reply.  And  so  she  left  him  standing  there 
alone  gazing  after  her  with  bared  head  in  the  dark- 
ness. The  strain  on  her  nerves  had  told  on  her  and  she 
sat  her  side-saddle  listlessly  holding  on  by  the  pommel, 
and  peering  into  the  darkness  before  her,  with  eyes 
that  saw  nothing  but  pictures  of  death.  She  could 
not  forget  the  wounded  man  grasping  at  space  as  he 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


tottered  on  the  rim  of  the  rocks.  Cyril  had  killed  a 
man.  War!  She  had  thought  war  a  more  glorious 
thing.  This  seemed  very  like  murder.  She  blessed 
God  for  Stryker  who  had  come  so  opportunely.  Riz- 
zio  had  tried  to  kill  Cyril.  In  horror  she  had  seen  him 
raise  his  pistol  and  aim,  but  at  her  cry  he  had  missed 
his  shot  and  with  the  disabling  of  his  confederates  he 
had  fled. 

Rizzio  was  a  German  spy.  Then  since  they  were 
enemies  of  course  Cyril  was  loyal — playing  a  part  to 
deceive  the  enemy — learning  its  secrets  that  England 
might  profit  by  them.  The  message!  What  was  the 
message  that  the  German  naval  officer  had  brought 
which  had  so  disturbed  Cyril?  What  was  this  mys- 
terious duty  of  Cyril's  which  meant  so  much  to  his 
cause,  the  success  or  failure  of  which  hung  by  a  thread? 
She  tried  to  think  what  Cyril  could  do  in  England  and 
after  a  time  the  thing  began  to  come  to  her.  Cyril 
was  acting  for  England.  He  had  succeeded,  in  the 
guise  of  a  German  secret  agent,  in  finding  the  traitor 
in  the  War  Office,  and  it  was  Cyril  who  had  caused 
the  arrest  of  Captain  Byfield.  Rizzio,  too,  was  a  Ger- 
man spy  who  for  some  reason  or  other  had  been  sent — 
O  God — that  was  it.  The  Germans  suspected  Cyril 
and  had  used  John  Rizzio  to  put  him  to  the  test — 
had  set  a  thief  to  catch  a  thief.  Cyril  had  found  that 
the  message  was  a  dangerous  one — and  had  refused  to 
give  it  up  to  Rizzio.  That  seemed  to  explain  every- 
thing— Cyril's  willingness  to  have  her  burn  the  pa- 
pers, Rizzio's  anxiety  to  save  them,  that  he  might  send 
them  to  his  employers.  The  second  packet  of  papers? 
A  false  message,  prepared  for  a  purpose  which  Cyril 
was  to  fulfill.  The  German  naval  officer!  His  mes- 
sage— what  was  it?  Imagination  refused  to  aid  her. 

123 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


She  could  not  understand.  He  brought  a  command — • 
a  test  of  Cyril's  loyalty  to  Germany  perhaps?  Was 
that  it?  And  if  so,  what?  A  test  which  meant  victory 
or  defeat — that  was  what  Cyril's  last  words  had  meant. 
Victory  or  defeat — life  or  death.  It  was  a  desperate 
game  that  he  was  playing.  And  what  was  he  going  to 
do  tonight  that  made  it  necessary  for  him  to  leave  her 
to  ride  to  Kilmorack  House  alone? 

Bewildered  and  weary  with  excitement  and  much 
thinking,  she  gave  it  up,  and  as  in  a  daze  set  her  mind 
to  the  task  of  finding  the  way  to  Horsham  Hill.  She 
rode  on  inland  searching  for  the  old  sheep  trail  as 
Cyril  had  described  it  to  her,  but  as  the  minutes  went 
by  and  she  did  not  find  it  she  began  to  think  that  she 
must  have  passed  it  in  the  darkness.  She  had  ridden 
at  a  walk  for  hours  it  seemed,  keeping  as  she  thought 
in  a  direction  which  would  surely  lead  her  to  a  road 
toward  the  Hill,  but  she  realized  now  that  she  was  lost 
on  the  moor  and  that  it  might  be  morning  before  she 
would  find  her  way  to  Betty  Heathcote's.  She  stopped 
her  horse  and  peered  in  every  direction.  Nothing  but 
the  undulations  of  the  moor,  hill  and  dale,  a  dead  tree 
outlined  against  the  sky,  masses  of  rock  uncouth  in 
form,  bushes  which  whispered  in  the  wind,  the  babble 
of  a  tarn  somewhere  behind  her,  though  she  had  not 
remembered  passing  it.  There  were  no  lights  in  any 
direction,  none  even  from  the  heavens,  for  the  stars 
had  gone  out.  After  a  long  while  she  wondered 
vaguely  what  time  it  was.  She  had  no  watch,  but  it 
seemed  that  a  paleness  like  that  which  precedes  the 
dawn  had  spread  along  the  sky — though  it  hardly 
seemed  possible  it  could  be  so  late  as  that.  Three — 
four  o'clock  she  thought  it  might  be — perhaps  later. 
The  one  thing  that  now  seemed  to  persist  in  her  mind 


THE  YELLOW  DOFE 


was  the  hope  that  Wilson  had  obeyed  orders  and  kept 
Lady  Heathcote  in  ignorance  of  her  absence. 

She  was  startled  by  her  horse  which,  without  mov- 
ing, had  stretched  his  neck  and  whinnied  loudly.  He, 
too,  had  realized  the  aimlessness  of  their  wanderings 
and  wanted  the  warm  stalls  at  the  Kilmorack  stables. 
Doris  tried  to  think  what  was  best  to  do.  All  sense 
of  direction  was  gone  and  she  was  beyond  even  the 
sound  of  the  sea.  At  last  she  decided  to  try  a  slight 
eminence  and  see  if  she  could  make  out  the  bulk  of 
Ben-a-Chielt,  but  a  mist  had  fallen,  and  when  she 
reached  the  height  she  was  no  wiser  than  before.  For- 
tunately, it  was  not  cold,  and  if  she  did  not  fall  from 
the  saddle  in  utter  weariness,  daylight  would  show  her 
a  way.  She  got  down  from  her  horse  and,  fastening 
him  to  a  bush,  walked  to  and  fro  to  keep  awake,  wait- 
ing for  the  day,  for  at  sunrise  she  could  make  her  way 
toward  the  east  until  she  reached  the  coast,  after  which 
by  following  the  cliffs  to  the  right  she  would  reach 
the  Lodge,  and  from  there  the  way  to  Kilmorack 
House. 

She  had  grown  accustomed  to  the  silences  and  now 
and  then  paused  in  her  pacing  to  stop  and  listen. 
She  thought  she  heard  a  sound  different  from  the 
others — behind  her  it  seemed,  a  subdued  murmur, 
which,  as  she  listened,  grew  in  intensity  until  she 
clearly  made  it  out  to  be  the  quick  reverberations  of  a 
motor,  running  with  its  cut-out  open.  It  was  coming 
fast,  and  in  a  moment  a  long  fan  of  light  shot  across 
the  sky  from  below  the  brow  of  a  distant  hill  and  then 
fell  suddenly  to  earth,  where  it  picked  out  the  shapes 
of  trees  and  bushes  along  what  appeared  to  be  its 
road.  The  motor  was  not  traveling  toward  her,  but 
at  an  angle  which  would  make  it  pass  near  her,  but 

125 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


quickly  as  she  mounted  and  rode  toward  it  she  was 
unable  even  to  come  within  earshot  before  the  machine 
had  passed  and  was  lost  to  sight  in  the  distance.  It 
had  not  gone  by  so  rapidly  that  Doris  had  not  been 
able  to  make  out  on  a  rise  of  ground  against  the  sky 
the  profile  of  a  roadster  and  the  shapes  of  two  men. 
Cyril  and  Stryker!  There  could  be  no  doubt  of  it, 
for  the  body  of  Cyril's  car  was  familiar  to  her  and 
the  chances  of  any  other  machine  being  abroad  in  this 
locality  at  this  hour  were  remote  indeed.  Where  were 
they  going?  In  which  direction?  Toward  Saltham 
Rocks  or  northward?  She  did  not  know,  but  decided 
to  take  the  chance  and  follow.  She  reached  the  road 
without  difficulty — a  trail  it  appeared  to  be  with  well- 
defined  wheel  tracks  and  the  marks  of  hoofs.  She 
pressed  her  horse  onward  in  the  wake  of  the  speeding 
machine,  not  to  overtake  it,  but  to  reach  a  destination 
of  some  sort  which  would  be  better  than  the  utter 
loneliness  of  the  desolate  moor,  the  silence  and  inac- 
tion of  which  made  her  a  prey  to  unhappy  thoughts. 
Her  horse  was  willing,  and  as  the  going  was  good 
broke  into  a  brisk  trot  which  for  a  while  kept  the  glow 
of  the  swinging  searchlight  of  the  machine  in  sight. 
But  presently  that,  too,  disappeared  and  all  was  as 
before.  And  glancing  above  she  understood.  To  her 
right  a  pale  streak  of  light  was  showing  along  the 
horizon,  and  above  her  between  patches  of  dark  clouds 
she  caught  a  faint  reflection  of  violet  light.  It  was 
the  beginning  of  the  dawn. 

Dawn  on  her  right — that  meant  the  east.  She  was 
riding  north,  then.  North — and  to  what  destination? 
She  had  ridden  this  road  with  Cyril,  but  never  to  its 
end,  which  as  she  knew  was  among  the  unhospitable 
crags  of  Rudha  Mor,  a  wild  spot  unfrequented  by  any 


THE  YELLOW  DOFE 


except  Cyril's  gamekeepers.  What  was  Cyril's  errand 
in  the  night  to  such  a  place  when  everything  that  had 
happened  would  seem  to  indicate  the  necessity  for  his 
immediate  return  to  London?  The  same  kind  of  curi- 
osity that  had  made  her  open  the  package  of  cigarette 
papers  against  Cyril's  wishes,  stimulated  her  to  fol- 
low this  quest  to  its  end.  She  forgot  that  she  had  had 
no  sleep  all  night,  and  little  the  night  before.  Of 
physical  weariness  now  she  seemed  to  have  none,  and 
in  the  growing  light  she  urged  her  tired  horse  forward 
into  a  hand  gallop  which  covered  the  miles  swiftly. 
She  came  to  the  cliffs  and  saw  the  sea,  passed  inland 
again.  The  going  was  rougher  here,  less  turf  and 
more  rocks  and  whins,  while  to  her  left  the  hills  were 
split  by  crags  which  protruded  in  fantastic  shapes, 
like  heads  of  prisoned  monsters  of  the  underworld 
which  had  forced  their  way  up  through  the  crust  of 
the  earth  to  the  light  of  day.  It  was  curious.  The 
trail  was  well  worn  here  as  it  had  been  before,  and 
there  were  signs  of  much  hauling.  What  was  going  on 
at  Rudha  Mor?  The  place  could  not  be  far  distant, 
for  she  saw  that  the  road  wound  up  the  rocks  and  fell 
away  rapidly  into  a  deep  gorge,  the  further  side  of 
which  she  could  see,  dimly  colored  with  the  opalescent 
tint  of  the  East.  This  she  thought  must  be  nearly  the 
end  of  her  ride.  She  did  not  know  what  was  in  store 
for  her  and  was  doubtful  as  to  her  wisdom,  but  she  was 
eaten  with  curiosity,  and  dismounted,  led  her  horse 
slowly  to  the  lip  of  the  gorge  and  peered  over.  What 
she  saw  made  her  gasp.  She  drew  quickly  back,  teth- 
ered her  horse  to  a  bush  and  came  forward  again. 
Near  by,  under  a  shed  built  on  the  brink  of  the  cliff, 
was  Cyril's  roadster,  but  of  Cyril  and  Stryker  she 
saw  no  sign.  Beneath  her  feet  the  cliffs  fell  away  rap- 

127 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


idly  by  easy  steps,  down  which  she  marked  a  well-worn 
footpath.  The  bottom  of  the  gorge  was  of  rock  and 
sand  shelving  gradually  toward  the  sea  and  fairly  in 
its  middle,  built  strongly  of  rough  lumber,  she  saw  a 
shed  with  wide  doors  which  even  now  were  open — a 
large  hangar  from  which  as  she  looked  several  figures 
wheeled  forth  a  huge  aeroplane — to  a  platform  of 
planks  which  extended  for  a  long  way  toward  the  sea. 
From  a  distance  it  was  difficult  to  judge  its  measure- 
ments, but  by  comparison  with  the  heights  of  the  men 
Doris  knew  that  she  had  never  seen  a  machine  so  large. 
As  the  east  grew  lighter  she  could  see  Cyril  plainly. 
He  came  out  of  the  hangar  dressed  in  leather,  gave 
some  orders  which  made  the  other  figures  hurry  and  a 
series  of  deafening  explosions  from  the  engine  as  they 
"tuned  it  up,"  gave  Doris  a  sense  of  immediate  depar- 
ture. For  a  while  she  watched,  fascinated,  her  interest 
in  the  size  of  this  huge  toy  and  its  possibilities  making 
a  separate  mind-picture  which  superseded  all  those 
that  had  gone  before.  But  as  the  light  grew  stronger 
and  she  made  out  the  color  of  the  wide  yellow  planes, 
she  started  up  with  a  cry  which  would,  have  been  heard 
by  the  men  below  her  had  it  not  been  for  the  racket 
that  the  engine  was  making.  "A  huge  machine  with 
yellow  wings,"  she  remembered  Jack  Sandys'  descrip- 
tion, "a  thousand  horsepower  at  least."  The  Yellow 
Dove — this  was  the  Yellow  Dove  and  the  man  of  mys- 
tery, its  driver,  was — Cyril. 

Spellbound  and  trembling  with  excitement,  she 
watched  Cyril  climb  up  into  one  of  the  seats.  Cyril 
was  going  to  fly  to  the  Germans,  she  knew  it  now,  to 
obey  the  commands  which  had  been  brought  last  night 
by  the  German  officer,  commands  to  come  to  Germany 
and  explain  his  failure  to  deliver  his  secret  message  to 

128 


'Her  lips  .  .  .  were  whispering  words  that  she  hoped  could 
follow  him  into  the  distance." 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


Rizzio.  They  suspected  him  and  yet  he  was  going  to 
face  them.  It  was  desperate,  foolhardy,  insane.  He 
would  never  come  back.  Not  victory,  but  death — that 
was  what  it  meant.  She  ran  out  to  the  very  edge  of 
the  rocks,  shrieking  his  name,  but  the  sounds  were 
lost  in  the  fearful  din  of  the  motor  below.  The  ex- 
plosions echoed  and  reechoed  in  the  gorge  which  seemed 
to  quiver  with  the  volume  of  sound.  Not  a  head  from 
below  was  turned  up  to  look  at  her  and  she  had  a  sense 
of  her  own  unimportance  in  the  immensity  of  Cyril's 
viewpoint.  She  saw  the  yellow  machine  start  slowly 
down  the  incline,  gathering  momentum  as  it  ran  until 
it  left  the  runway  and  rose  magnificently,  its  engine 
roaring  steadily,  clearing  the  surf  and  rocks  and  head- 
ing straight  into  the  growing  day. 

O  God!  That  she  should  have  suspected  him  of 
anything  base  and  dishonorable — a  man  who  could 
face  death  as  he  was  doing,  as  he  had  been  doing  for 
months.  Cyril — the  Yellow  Dove.  There  could  be  no 
doubt  of  it,  for  she  had  seen  with  her  own  eyes.  She 
understood  now  many  things  that  had  been  a  mystery 
before;  why  he  could  not  speak  to  her;  the  reasons  for 
his  occasional  absences,  for  his  air  of  indifference,  for 
his  coolness  in  the  face  of  adverse  criticism.  She 
understood  about  John  Rizzio  and  the  reasons  why 
Cyril  had  wanted  her  to  take  such  precautions  in  get- 
ting safely  back  to  Ashwater  Park,  precautions  which 
she  had  disregarded.  But  what  mattered  about  her 
when  Cyril  every  day,  every  hour  for  months  had  taken 
chances  against  death,  the  most  ignominious  death  of 
all! 

Her  heart  was  big  with  pride  in  him  and  she  fol- 
lowed the  Yellow  Dove  with  her  gaze,  now  rising  high 
and  diminishing  rapidly  in  the  mist,  her  soul  in  her 

129 


THE  YELLOW  DOFE 


moist  eyes  and  on  her  lips  which  were  whispering 
words  that  she  hoped  could  follow  him  into  the  dis- 
tance. Her  Cyril,  still  hers,  and  England's — the 
Honorable  Cyril  whom  the  world  had  come  to  know 
as  the  Yellow  Dove. 

She  stood  in  the  shelter  of  the  rocks,  for  she  knew 
now  in  which  way  her  duty  to  Cyril  lay,  and  waited 
until  the  aeroplane  was  but  a  speck  against  the  sky, 
when  she  turned  with  a  sigh  which  was  almost  a  gasp  of 
weariness  and  walked  slowly  toward  her  horse.  The 
ride  before  her  was  long,  but  by  good  riding  she  might 
still  reach  Kilmarock  House  before  Lady  Betty's 
guests  were  up.  Otherwise  her  reputation  was  gone. 
She  knew  that,  for  she  could  make  no  explanation  of 
any  kind.  On  that  she  was 

Quick  footsteps  behind  her — her  arms  caught  from 
behind — a  glimpse  of  a  strange  face  and  then  some- 
thing white  over  her  head — a  pungent  odor  and — un- 
consciousness. 


CHAPTER   XI 

VON   STROMBERG 

IN  the  Taunus  range  north  of  the  Schwartzwald, 
lies  the  village  of  Windenberg,  on  the  slopes  of 
the  well-wooded  hills  that  lead  by  slow  stages 
to  higher  elevations  of  the  Grosser  Feldberg.  In  the 
valleys  are  vineyards,  orchards,  chestnut  and  almond- 
groves  and  in  times  of  peace,  the  people  are  con- 
tented, well-to-do  and  industrious.  The  schloss  of  the 
Counts  von  Winden  stands  upon  an  eminence  and  looks 
down  upon  a  rolling  country  of  velvety  woods  extend- 
ing for  miles  along  the  slope  of  the  range.  In  this 
region  of  firs  and  beech  trees  one  might  walk  for  miles 
off  the  roads  without  coming  upon  a  sign  of  human 
habitation,  or  indeed  without  passing  the  boundaries 
of  the  von  Winden  estate. 

But  three  miles  from  Winden  Schloss  well  hidden 
among  the  hills  was  a  spot  of  cleared  land  containing 
perhaps  two  hundred  acres  which  had  been  once  used 
by  the  von  Winden  family  as  a  farm,  but  had  been 
taken  since  the  beginning  of  the  war  by  the  State  for 
purposes  of  its  own.  A  good  road  led  to  Windenberg 
five  miles  away  through  the  forest,  but  much  secrecy 
attached  to  Blaufelden,  as  the  place  was  called.  Men 
of  the  Imperial  Forest  Service  kept  guard  upon  all  the 
roads,  and  no  one  but  those  having  official  permission 
were  allowed  to  come  within  two  miles  of  the  place. 

A  visit  would  have  soon  explained  the  reasons  for 
this  extraordinary  care  on  the  part  of  the  men  in  uni- 

131 


THE  YELLOW  DOFE 


form,  for  not  far  from  the  house  and  stables,  unob- 
trusive buildings  of  brick  and  stone,  were  aviation 
sheds,  a  well-supplied  garage  and  storage  houses, 
which  indicated  at  almost  any  hour  of  the  day  or  night 
a  military  activity. 

Within  the  farmhouse  of  Blaufelden,  rather  late  in 
a  night  in  March  a  tall  iron-gray  figure,  slender,  but- 
toned to  the  neck  in  a  close-fitting  uniform  coat,  paced 
slowly  up  and  down.  A  plain  wooden  table  stood  in 
the  center  of  the  room.  It  was  lighted  by  a  lamp  with 
a  green  shade  and  covered  with  papers  arranged  in 
orderly  piles.  There  were  chairs,  strongly  but  simply 
made,  and  a  sad-colored  rug,  and  the  walls  were  dec- 
orated with  pictures  of  hunting  scenes,  while  over  the 
stone  fireplace  in  which  the  pine  logs  intermittently 
blazed,  there  was  a  colored  lithograph  of  the  Emperor 
of  Germany.  It  was  the  kind  of  room,  and  the  kind 
of  furniture  one  would  expect  to  find  in  any  of  the 
rural  districts  of  the  great  empire,  with  the  one  dif- 
ference that  nowhere  was  there  visible  the  touch  of  a 
woman's  hand.  Whatever  its  original  purpose  the 
room  at  the  present  moment  contained  only  the  essen- 
tials of  the  barest  comfort.  And  the  figure  of  the 
man  in  uniform,  erect,  silent  and  austere,  completed 
the  impression  which  the  barrack-like  simplicity  of  his 
surroundings  created — order,  cleanliness,  efficiency  ex- 
pressed in  the  simplest  terms. 

The  German  officer  stopped  pacing  the  room  and 
touched  a  bell  upon  the  table.  His  brows  were  fur- 
rowed and  his  broad  capable  hands  tapped  impatiently 
among  the  documents.  His  summons  was  answered 
almost  immediately  by  a  man  in  the  uniform  of  the 
Jagers,  the  Imperial  Forest  Service,  who  stood  silently 
his  heels  together  awaiting  orders. 

132 


VON  STROMBERG 


"There  has  been  no  word?"  asked  the  officer  in 
German. 

"None,  Excellenz." 

"You  stationed  your  men  as  I  directed?" 

"Yes,  Excellenz " 

The  officer  paused.  And  then,  "Send  Herr  Haupt- 
mann  von  Winden  the  moment  he  arrives." 

The  man  saluted,  wheeled  and  went  out,  closing  the 
door  noiselessly  behind  him.  The  tall  figure  regarded 
the  door  fixedly  for  a  moment  in  deep  thought,  and 
then  tapped  the  back  of  his  left  hand  with  the  fingers 
of  his  right,  a  habit  he  had  when  things  were  not  go- 
ing to  his  liking.  General  Graf  von  Stromberg,  Privy 
Councilor  to  the  German  Emperor  and  head  of  the 
military  sections  of  the  Secret  Service,  was  not  a  per- 
son accustomed  to  have  things  go  wrong,  and  delay  of 
any  kind  annoyed  him  exceedingly. 

But  the  door  of  the  room  opened  and  a  young  offi- 
cer in  uniform  appeared  and  stood  awaiting  the  will 
of  his  superior.  He  was  blond,  ruddy  and  well  set  up 
and  bore  all  the  marks  of  the  army  training — a  mem- 
ber beyond  doubt  of  the  military  caste  with  something 
in  the  clearly  cut,  if  somewhat  arrogant,  features  of 
his  face  which  suggested  good  blood  and  lineage. 

"Ah,  Herr  Hauptmann!"  said  the  General,  frown- 
ing. "You  have  heard?" 

"Yes,  Excellenz.     He  should  be  here  by  midnight." 

"What  was  the  cause  of  the  delay?" 

"He  was  forced  to  come  down  at  Ostend,  yesterday. 
It  has  taken  him  all  day  to  make  repairs.  Pie  is  on 
the  way  now." 

Von  Stromberg  grunted  and  sank  into  his  chair  at 
the  table,  motioning  the  younger  officer  into  one  beside 
him. 

133 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


"Come,  sit  down.  Let's  forget  that  we  are  parts  of 
the  intricate  machinery  of  State.  Here  is  a  cigar. 
Smoke.  It  will  do  you  good." 

Von  Winden,  flattered  by  this  mark  of  condescen- 
sion, obeyed. 

"You  are  glad?"  von  Stromberg  asked. 

"Yes,  Excellenz.  I  am  glad.  It  is  not  the  kind  of 
thing  one  wants  to  be  worried  about — one's  own  flesh 
and  blood.  But  I  knew  there  must  have  been  a  mis- 
take." 

General  von  Stromberg  puffed  his  smoke  toward 
the  ceiling  and  stretched  his  long  legs  upon  the 
floor. 

"It  is  very  curious.  I  am  not  sure  that  I  under- 
stand. Herr  Rizzio  is  a  careful  man  and  he  has  much 
at  stake.  Why  should  your  cousin  Hammersley  have 
refused  to  take  cognizance  of  his  credentials?" 

"He  had  doubtless  good  reasons  of  his  own.  But 
since  he  will  soon  be  here  he  will  answer  your  ques- 
tions himself.  The  fact  that  he  comes  at  all,  Excellenz, 
should  be  proof  of  his  loyalty." 

"Yes,"  said  the  General  thoughtfully.  "That 
should  be  true.  One  doesn't  thrust  one's  head  into  the 
lion's  mouth  for  the  mere  pleasure  of  examining  his 
teeth.  Who  sent  this  message?" 

"General  von  Betzdorf." 

"There  were  no  other  wireless  communications?" 

"None,  Excellenz.  But  Stammer  should  reach  Wil- 
helmshaven  tonight." 

The  General  smoked  silently  for  a  moment,  and 
then: 

"Herr  Hammersley's  mother  was  a  Prussian?" 

"Yes,  Excellenz,  a  sister  of  my  mother " 

"Yes,  I  remember  now.  Von  Eppingen "  the 

134 


VON  STROMBERG 


General    muttered,    his    brows    wrinkled.      And    then, 
"You  saw  much  of  your  cousin?" 

"For  a  while  he  went  with  me  to  the  gymnasium, 
then  to  the  University  of  Heidelberg.  He  has  come 
over  each  year  and  shot  with  me  here  at  Windenberg." 

"You  are  fond  of  him?" 

Von  Winden  shrugged. 

"He  is  my  relative.  We  have  always  got  along.  I 
should  not  have  cared  to  find  that  he  was  a  traitor." 

The  General  smoked  silently,  his  gaze  on  the  fire. 

"But  his  father  was  an  Englishman,  Graf  von  Win- 
den.  We  can't  forget  that.  Tell  me.  You  have 
known  him  always.  What  was  his  attitude  at  the  Uni- 
versity? Did  he  show  a  real  affection  for  German  life 
and  customs?  In  short  was  he  ever  able  to  forget  that 
half  of  him  was  English?" 

Udo  von  Winden  pulled  at  his  small  blond  mustache 
thoughtfully. 

"I  can  only  say  that  he  was  quieter  than  most  of 
us.  But  he  was  popular.  He  was  a  member  of  the 
Saxe-Borussia  and  represented  the  Corps  on  the  Men- 
surboden  against  Suevia  and  Guestphalia.  A  Prussian 
for  all  that  any  of  us  knew —  Prussian  of  Prussians." 

"His  father  died  when  he  was  quite  young,  I  be- 
lieve?" 

"Yes,  Excellenz.  But  his  father,  too,  had  lived 
much  in  Germany.  He  was  a  diplomat  and  scholar 
and  enjoyed  the  friendship  of  the  Iron  Chancellor. 
That  was  before  the  'Hassgesang,'  Excellenz." 

"Or  before  the  'Tag,'  "  growled  the  General.  "Your 
loyalty  to  your  cousin  is  natural,  but  loyalty  to  the 
Vaterland—  — " 

Udo  von  Winden  rose  quickly. 

"You  would  not  suggest,  Excellenz ?" 

135 


"Quatch!  Sit  down,  Captain.  I  suggest  nothing. 
There  are  merely  some  phases  of  the  question  which 
puzzle  me.  Perhaps  when  he  arrives  he  can  explain 
them." 

"He  will  explain.     I  will  stake  my  honor  on  it." 

"I  trust  so.  This  is  hardly  a  time  when  my  depart- 
ment can  afford  to  make  mistakes  in  the  character  of 
those  in  its  employ." 

"But,  Excellenz,  you  surely  have  no  cause  to  doubt 
the  exactness  of  the  information  he  has  furnished 
you!" 

"It  depends  upon  what  you  mean  by  exactness.  Our 
information,  as  you  know,  comes  from  a  number  of 
sources.  Some  of  it  has  proven  valuable — some  use- 
less. Herr  Hammersley's  has  been  neither  the  one  nor 
the  other." 

"But  the  British  fleet  at  Cuxhaven " 

"Yes,  he  gave  us  that,  but  they  came  two  days  ear- 
lier than  we  expected.  It  cost  us  the  Bliicher." 

"But  you  knew  that  the  orders  were  changed — and 
he  sent  a  wireless " 

"The  morning  the  Bliiclier  was  sunk,"  said  von 
Stromberg  dryly. 

"But,  Excellenz,  he  gave  us  a  clear  sea  for  the  raid 
on  Falmouth!" 

General  von  Stromberg  rose  and  laid  his  hand  on 
von  Winden's  shoulder. 

"You  are  younger  than  I,  Graf  von  Winden.  The 
Secret  Service  makes  a  maxim  to  believe  everyone 
guilty  until  he  proves  his  innocence." 

"But  Herr  Hammersley?" 

"We  have  reason  to  believe  that  the  British  Govern- 
ment permitted  the  raid  on  Falmouth,  as  a  means  of 
increasing  the  enlistments."  He  slowly  paced  the  floor 

136 


VON  STROMBERG 


and  then  said  reassuringly,  "Oh,  I  merely  question — 
I  merely  question " 

His  words  trailed  off  and  Udo  von  Winden  stood 
silently  until  he  spoke  again.  "Oh,  very  well.  We 
shall  see — we  shall  see." 

A  knock  at  the  door  and  an  orderly  entered. 

"Well?" 

"Dispatches,  Excellenz." 

Udo  von  Winden  watched  his  superior  officer  as  he 
dismissed  the  man  and  broke  the  seal  of  a  large  enve- 
lope and  read,  the  lamplight  playing  on  his  long  bony 
features,  giving  his  sharp  nose  a  peculiarly  vulture-like 
avidity.  The  importance  of  the  communication  was 
obvious,  for  the  small  eyes  under  the  heavy  thatch  of 
brows  flamed  in  sudden  interest.  The  General  read  the 
paper  through  quickly  and  then  slipped  it  between  the 
buttons  of  his  coat. 

"That  will  be  all,  Herr  Hauptmann "  he  said, 

with  a  return  of  his  military  abruptness.  "You  will 
go  at  once  to  the  hangar  and  await  the  arrival  of  Herr 
Hammersley."  And  as  the  officer  moved  toward  the 
door:  "Also,  you  will  first  tell  Herr  Hauptmann 
Wentz  that  I  wish  to  see  him  at  once." 

Von  Winden  clapped  his  heels  together,  saluted  and 
went  out  while  the  General  paced  the  floor  of  the  room 
again  tapping  the  back  of  his  left  hand  with  his  right. 
"It  is  curious,"  he  muttered  to  himself.  "A  coinci- 
dence perhaps,  but  strange.  And  yet — possible." 

While  he  was  reading  the  document  again  Captain 
Wentz  entered.  He  was  short,  thickly  set  and  dark 
with  a  blue  chin  and  heavy  eyebrows,  the  type  of  a 
man  who  rises  in  the  service  from  sheer  ability.  He 
waited  at  the  door,  immovable,  in  the  presence  of  the 
great  man  until  ordered  to  approach. 
10  137 


THE  YELLOW  DOFE 


"An  important  message  has  come  from  the  Wil- 
helmstrasse,  which  indicates  a  mission  of  peculiar  im- 
portance." The  General  paused  a  moment,  his  keen 
eyes  searching  Captain  Wentz  with  a  terrible  tensity, 
but  the  face  of  the  younger  man  remained  expression- 
less. He  was  merely  a  piece  of  machinery — excellent 
machinery. 

"You  may  have  thought  it  curious,  Herr  Haupt- 
mann  Wentz,  that  I  should  have  come  from  the  Wil- 
helmstrasse  to  Blaufelden.  Is  it  not  so?" 

"It  is  not  my  duty  to  think,  Excellenz,  unless  or- 
dered to  do  so,"  said  the  other  briefly. 

The  General  smiled.     The  answer  pleased  him. 

"I  wished  to  see  Herr  Hammersley,  as  you  know. 
That  is  important,  and  the  Yellow  Dove  cannot  go  to 
Berlin."  He  stopped  and  then  went  on  quickly :  "Herr 
Hauptmann,  you  have  been  attached  to  the  Secret  Ser- 
vice Department  three  years?" 

"Yes,  Excellenz." 

"You  have  performed  several  important  duties  and 
have  won  promotion.  I  am  now  about  to  commit  to 
your  care,  a " 

At  a  gesture  of  von  Stromberg's  thumb  the  officer 
went  on  tiptoe  to  the  door  and  opened  it  quickly. 

"No  one,  Excellenz." 

"Good.  Now  sit.  First,  you  speak  French  without 
accent." 

"That  was  a  part  of  my  qualification  for  this  ser- 
vice." 

"Yes.  It  is  in  my  mind  to  give  you  an  important 
mission — one  which  will  require  great  skill  and  forti- 
tude." 

Wentz  listened  attentively,  but  he  made  no  com- 
ment. 

138 


VON  STROMBERG 


"It  is  unnecessary  of  course  to  warn  you  to  hold 
what  I  tell  you  in  the  strictest  confidence." 

"I  do  not  talk,  Excellenz." 

"This  is  a  matter  of  grave  importance  to  the  Em- 
pire, a  matter  which  concerns  one  of  the  enemies  of 
the  Vaterland.  The  safe  delivery  of  certain  dispatches 
which  I  am  to  receive  may  mean  a  readjustment  of  the 
European  situation — perhaps  the  end  of  the  war  with 
Germany  victorious  and  England  humiliated." 

The  eyes  of  Captain  Wentz  grew  a  little  rounder 
and  sparkled  ever  so  slightly,  but  he  said  noth- 
ing. 

"I  am  telling  you  this  that  you  may  know  the  im- 
portance of  the  duty  I  am  giving  you.  It  is  an  honor 
which  I  hope  you  will  appreciate,  an  honor  that  may 
lead  to  greater  favors  than  you  have  hitherto  re- 
ceived." 

"I  hope  I  may  deserve  them,  Excellenz." 

General  von  Stromberg  took  the  paper  from  his 
breast  and  glanced  over  it  again. 

"You  will  remember,"  he  continued,  "the  affair  of 
the  Socialist,  Gottschalk?" 

"I  knew  nothing  of  the  details,  Excellenz.  That 
matter  came  in  the  duty  of  Oberlieutenant  von  Werin- 
grade." 

"This  much  then,  only,  I  need  tell  you.  Herr 
Gottschalk,  who  lived  at  Schondorf  near  here,  came 
into  the  possession,  in  a  manner  which  need  not  be  de- 
scribed, of  certain  important  papers.  He  kept  them 
for  some  time,  not  aware  of  their  importance,  and  then 
realizing  their  value  and  being  a  good  German,  though 
opposed  to  the  war,  two  weeks  ago  communicated  with 
the  Government.  The  result  of  this  correspondence 
was  a  summons  from  Berlin  and  the  delivery  of  these 

139 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


papers  into  the  hands  of  the  Emperor.     Do  you  fol- 
low me?" 

"Yes,  Excellenz." 

"This  letter  which  I  have  just  received  by  special 
messenger  informs  me  that  His  Majesty  has  decided 
to  act  at  once,  and  gives  me  three  days  in  which  to 
make  arrangements  to  have  these  papers,  which  will  be 
forwarded  tomorrow,  delivered  to  General  Balmier, 
commanding  at  Verdun,  to  be  handed  before  a  certain 
date,  to  the  President  of  the  French  Republic.  You 
are  to  be  the  bearer  of  those  letters.  They  must  t« 
delivered  personally.  You  will  be  provided  with  the 
proper  passes  and  facilities,  including  an  armed  escort 
to  the  French  lines.  From  there  you  must  trust  to 
your  own  resources.  The  important  matter  is  that 
no  one,  not  even  Captain  von  Winden,  sfyall  suspect 
your  mission.  Perhaps  now  you  will  realize  the  confi- 
dence I  am  reposing." 

"I  am  honored,  Excellenz.  These  papers  will  ar- 
rive tomorrow?" 

"Tomorrow  night  by  automobile  at  eleven,  by  tb« 
Schondorf  road." 

"And  until  then ?" 

"You  will  have  time  to  make  your  arrangements." 

"I  shall  prepare,  Excellenz." 

Captain  Wentz  rose,  but  the  General  halted  him. 

"One  thing  more.  Herr  Hammersley  is  returning 
tonight  from  England  with  dispatches.  He  is  to  be 
carefully  watched  tonight  and  tomorrow,  though  I 
shall  let  him  believe  that  he  moves  in  perfect  freedom. 
You  will  give  the  necessary  orders.  Also  I  would  like 
you  to  keep  watch  outside  the  door  when  he  is  brought 
to  this  room,  which  may  be  at  any  moment." 

"Zu  befehl,  Excellenz." 

140 


"That  is  all.     You  may  go." 

Left  alone,  General  von  Stromberg  took  a  chair 
facing  the  fire,  and  lighted  another  cigar.  For  many 
years  he  had  been  engaged  in  deciphering  interesting 
problems  and  in  preparing  problems  for  other  persons 
to  decipher.  Therefore  it  may  be  truly  said  that  his 
was  the  analytical  mind,  the  mind  of  the  chemist,  of 
the  mathematician,  and  the  philosopher,  with  so  com- 
plete a  schooling  in  the  trade  of  deception  that  all 
things  and  all  persons  in  the  cosmic  scheme  except 
himself  were  objects  of  suspicion.  For  him  the  obvious 
was  the  negligible  and  by  converse  the  negligible  of 
prime  importance.  As  he  had  said  to  von  Winden, 
every  man  was  guilty  until  he  was  proven  innocent. 
He  had  a  rare  nose  for  scenting  unsuspected  odors, 
and  a  fine  hand  for  finding  the  weak  links  in  the  armor 
of  those  he  used  as  well  as  of  those  who  sought  to  use 
him.  He  had  a  faculty  for  appearing  at  places  where 
he  was  least  expected  and  a  prescience  almost  miracu- 
lous in  forestalling  the  moves  of  his  adversaries.  He 
ruled  by  fear  and  by  admiration  and  there  was  not  a 
man  in  the  Empire  with  a  skeleton  in  his  closet,  no 
matter  how  high  his  station,  who  did  not  live  without 
a  terror  of  von  Stromberg  in  his  heart. 

But  the  habit  of  mind  of  suspecting  everybody, 
while  it  had  placed  him  upon  the  safe  side  of  every 
equation,  had  also  resulted,  through  the  elimination 
of  the  sentimental,  in  eliminating  the  more  direct  con- 
tacts with  human  nature.  To  judge  a  man  by  his 
possibilities  for  venality  is  like  judging  a  rose  by  the 
sharpness  of  its  thorn.  Something  of  the  weakness  of 
this  cynicism  had  been  apparent  to  the  keen  intellect 
of  von  Stromberg  and  he  had  been  finding  of  late  a 
rare  pleasure  in  trifling  with  his  convictions,  admitting 

141 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


into  the  stored  cavern  of  his  mind  for  experimental 
purposes,  an  occasional  ray  of  optimism.  At  the  pres- 
ent moment  he  was  analyzing  the  result  of  his  summons 
to  Herr  Hammersley  to  come  to  Germany  at  once  and 
the  communication  from  Herr  Rizzio  which  impugned 
Herr  Hammersley's  loyalty  to  Germany.  Von  Strom- 
berg  had  known  Herr  Rizzio  for  years  and  had  done 
him  more  than  one  service  in  finding  ways  to  cater  to 
his  passion  for  collecting  objects  of  art.  It  was  Ger- 
man social  influence  secretly  exerted  that  had  helped 
to  make  easy  Rizzio's  rise  in  favor  at  the  court  of  St. 
James.  There  had  been  a  possibility  that  some  day 
John  Rizzio  might  be  of  service  to  von  Stromberg  and 
to  Germany.  And  von  Stromberg  had  long  been  lay- 
ing the  plans  which  had  made  his  system  of  espionage 
the  most  perfect  in  Europe.  Von  Stromberg  had 
found  Rizzio's  weakness  and  had  traded  on  it,  saving 
his  most  tempting  bait  for  his  greatest  service,  the 
betrayal  of  the  home  of  his  adoption.  He  weighed 
Rizzio  contentedly  sure  of  his  own  power  over  him  and 
despising  him  for  having  been  so  easily  bought.  Ru- 
bens's  "Descent  from  the  Cross" !  There  were  fortu- 
nately other  Rubenses  in  conquered  territory — some 
very  good  ones  that  John  Rizzio  might  like.  Von 
Stromberg  had  made  a  list  of  them.  He  had  learned 
that  it  was  as  necessary  to  be  provided  with  bribes 
as  with  threats.  Fortunately  Rizzio  himself  had  given 
him  material  for  the  latter.  Racially,  the  great  Coun- 
cilor did  not  like  Latins,  and  he  was  quite  sure  he 
cared  less  for  Italians  now  than  he  did  before  the 
proclamation  of  neutrality.  They  were  not  to  be 
trusted  by  good  Germans.  If  Rizzio  had  played  false 
to  the  country  of  his  adoption  for  the  sake  of  a  paltry 
picture,  it  was  within  the  bounds  of  possibility  that 

142 


he  could  be  false  to  Germany  if  the  necessity  arose  for 
an  even  smaller  consideration.  Yesterday  morning  be- 
fore leaving  Berlin  for  Windenberg,  von  Stromberg 
had  received  a  dispatch  from  Rizzio  which  told  of  his 
departure  on  his  yacht  from  Scotland  for  Bremen. 
This  was  curious — also  interesting.  Rizzio  was  needed 
in  England  and  was  useless  in  Germany.  Why  was 
he  coming?  Had  something  been  learned  of  him  at 
Scotland  Yard?  Or  had  his  departure  to  do  with  the 
case  of  Herr  Hammersley?  Whatever  the  visit  meant, 
it  was  necessary,  very  necessary,  to  have  Rizzio  and 
Hammersley  together  at  once,  so  he  had  deemed  it  wise 
to  send  orders  to  Bremen  to  have  Rizzio  caught  on 
the  wireless  and  when  he  reached  port  sent  through 
at  once  to  Windenberg. 

Von  Stromberg  smiled  in  self-gratulation.  There 
would  be  no  loose  ends  about  this  affair.  Merely  as  a 
precaution  in  so  important  a  matter  he  had  set  one 
agent  to  watch  another.  Byfield  had  been  watched  by 
Hammersley,  who  in  turn  had  been  watched  by  Rizzio, 
who  had  been  watched  by  Herr  Maxwell,  an  agent 
long  in  von  Stromberg's  service.  Rizzio  had  been  given 
the  power  and  credentials  to  use  his  discretion  with 
Hammersley.  Why  had  not  Hammersley  relinquished 
the  cigarette  papers  to  Rizzio?  Hammersley  should 
have  good  reasons  for  his  refusal.  Was  there  reason 
for  Hammersley  to  suspect  Rizzio?  Herr  Maxwell, 
who  had  been  set  to  watch  Rizzio,  was  silent.  This 
was  puzzling.  What  had  happened  to  Herr  Maxwell? 

General  von  Stromberg  threw  his  finished  cigar  into 
the  fire  and  got  up,  rubbing  his  hands  together.  Oh, 
it  was  very  interesting — very.  The  situation  was  rap- 
idly approaching  culmination.  In  a  short  while  all  the 
threads  of  this  pretty  tangle  would  be  within  reach  of 

143 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


his  long  fingers.  And  all  that  he,  von  Stromberg,  had 
to  do  was  to  catch  them  by  the  ends  and  hold.  What 
would  Herr  Hammersley  bring? 

General  von  Stromberg  straightened,  listening. 
The  sound  of  voices  and  men  outside.  So.  He  was 
here  already.  There  had  been  no  sound  from  the  ma- 
chine. Of  course,  he  had  planed  down.  A  knock  on 
the  door  and  von  Winden,  Wentz  and  Hammersley 
-entered. 


CHAPTER    XII 
HAMMERSLEY   EXPLAINS 

AT  the  sight  of  the  tall  figure  of  von  Stromberg, 
Hammersley  halted  for  the  fraction  of  a  sec- 
ond and  then  came  forward  into  the  room. 
He  still  wore  his  leather  jacket  and  cap,  but  the  wind 
burn  on  his  cheeks  gave  his  eyes,  which  had  been  pro- 
tected by  goggles,  a  singular  grayness.  He  had  had 
no  sleep  and  his  face  was  drawn  in  haggard  lines,  but 
his  greeting  showed  no  signs  of  uneasiness. 

"Had  I  known  you  were  awaiting  me,  Excellenz,  I 
should  perhaps  have  made  quicker  repairs." 

"It  does  not  matter  that  you  are  late,"  said  von 
Stromberg  quickly.  "The  thing  of  main  importance 
is  that  you  are  here."  The  General  turned  and  made  a 
motion  to  the  door  of  the  room.  "I  wish  to  be  alone 
with  Herr  Hammersley.  Herr  Hauptmann  von  Win- 
den,  you  are  relieved  from  duty  for  the  night.  Herr 
Hauptmann  Wentz,  you  will  remain  within  call." 

The  two  officers  saluted  and  retired  and  the  Gen- 
eral motioned  Hammersley  to  approach. 

"You  have  it?"  he  asked  briefly. 

"Yes,   Excellenz.      Here." 

He  produced  from  an  inner  pocket  a  small  package 
wrapped  in  oiled  paper  and  handed  it  to  von  Strom- 
berg. 

"Ah !"  He  went  quickly  over  to  the  table  and  tear- 
ing off  the  wrapper  of  the  bundle  opened  the  packet  of 
Riz-la-Croix  and  found  the  hidden  message  which  he 

145 


THE  YELLOW  DOFE 


scanned  quickly,  with  muttered  ejaculations  of  satis- 
faction and  surprise.  Hammersley  by  the  fireplace 
was  warming  his  hands. 

"Ganz  gut!"  said  the  General,  straightening  and 
turning.  "You  had  difficulties?" 

"More  than  usual,  Excellenz.  Captain  Byfield  is  in 
prison." 

"Caught!" 

Hammersley  nodded. 

"They  found  letters  at  his  rooms." 

"Schafskopf!    Were  there  no  fires?" 

Hammersley  shrugged. 

"He  is  to  be  tried  by  court-martial.  He  will  be 
shot." 

Von  Stromberg  deliberated  a  moment. 

"And  were  you  suspected?" 

"Yes.  They  followed  me  to  Scotland,  but  fortu- 
nately the  Yellow  Dove  is  still  a  mystery — at  least  it 
was  yesterday  morning,  and  I  got  safely  away." 

Von  Stromberg  was  scrutinizing  him  keenly. 

"H — m.  What  makes  you  think  that  you  were  fol- 
lowed?" 

"I  left  London  by  night  train  but  got  off  at  Edin- 
burgh where  my  motor  met  me.  But  the  wire  was 
faster,  and  they  had  sent  word  to  stop  me.  They 
stretched  a  rope  across  the  road,  but  I  saw  it  and 
went  around.  They  fired  at  me " 

"When  was  this?" 

"Three  nights  ago." 

"They  didn't  hit  you— 

"A  mere  scratch  across  the  arm " 

"Let  me  see  it." 

Hammersley  looked  into  von  Stromberg's  face  and 
laughed. 

146 


UAMMERSLEY  EXPLAINS 

"Really?"  he  asked. 

"Yes." 

Rather  stiffly  Hammersley  took  off  his  leather  jacket 
and  sweater  and  rolled  up  the  sleeve  of  his  flannel  shirt. 
Von  Stromberg  examined  the  wound  with  interest. 

"So "  he  said.     "Put  on  your  coat.     And  after 

that?" 

"I  kept  away  from  Ben-a-Chielt  and  put  up  for  the 
night  at  my  cousin's." 

"Who  is  that?" 

"Lady  Heathcote " 

"Oh,  "yes.  It  was  at  her  house  in  London  that  the 
message  passed  to  you." 

"Yes,  Excellenz." 

Von  Stromberg  paused  a  moment  and  then  spoke 
abruptly. 

"Why  did  you  not  give  the  papers  to  Rizzio?" 

Hammersley's  gaze  met  the  General's  squarely. 

"They  were  too  important.  I  could  not  take  the 
risk." 

"But  his  orders  superseded  yours." 

"I  saw — but  I  could  not  take  the  risk." 

"Why?" 

"Because  I  had  reason  to  believe  that  Rizzio  was 
acting  for  the  English  Government." 

Von  Stromberg's  burning  gaze  flickered  and  went 
out.  He  took  a  few  paces  across  the  room,  his  right 
hand  tapping  the  back  of  his  left.  At  last  he  came 
and  stood  before  Hammersley,  his  hands  behind  his 
back. 

"What  were  your  reasons  for  believing  that?" 

"Maxwell  learned  it  from  Byfield." 

"Maxwell!    You  saw  Maxwell — when?" 

"The  night  I  left  London." 
147 


THE  YELLOW  DOFE 


"Has  anything  happened  to  him?"  quickly. 

"I  do  not  know." 

The  General  frowned  into  the  fire. 

"It  is  strange,"  he  muttered.  "Very  strange.  You 
did  not  realize  then  that  I  suspected  you?" 

Hammersley  laughed. 

"Not  at  once.  I  did  later.  That  is  your  privilege, 
Excellenz.  But  I  refused  to  be  caught  under  the  cir- 
cumstances. I  preferred  to  take  the  risk  of  failure. 
After  all,  you  see,  I  succeeded." 

General  von  Stromberg  was  not  immune  from  the 
frankness  of  Hammersley's  smile.  He  turned  toward 
the  table  and  scrutinized  the  papers  with  great  care. 

"These  are  the  very  papers  you  got  from  Herr  Cap- 
tain Byfield?" 

Hammersley's  reply  was  startling. 

"Unfortunately,  no.  The  original  papers  were 
burned " 

"Burned !"  cried  the  General,  turning  in  his  chair. 

"But  not  before  I  had  made  this  copy,  which  I  put 
in  a  safe  place." 

"Explain." 

"I  was  followed,  leaving  Lady  Heathcote's  dinner 
party  in  an  automobile,  by  agents  of  Scotland  Yard. 
I  had  the  slower  machine  and  they  caught  me.  But 
not  before  I  had  passed  the  original  papers  to  my 
companion " 

"Your  companion — a  woman?" 

"Yes,  Excellenz,  there  was  nothing  else  to  do.  She 
escaped  while  they  were  searching  me  and  kept  the 
papers " 

"Who  was  this  woman?" 

"My  fiancee." 

"Her  name?" 

148 


HAMMEESLEY  EXPLAINS 

"Doris  Mather." 

"English?" 

"No,  American." 

"And  what  happened  then?" 

"Excellenz,  she  read  them.  She  is  devoted  to  the 
English  cause.  I  could  Jo  nothing.  She  learned  that 
I  was  acting  for  Germany  and,  rather  than  let  them 
fall  into  my  hands,  she  burned  them.  It  makes  no 
difference  to  you  or  to  the  Vaterland,  since  I  have 
brought  the  message  here,  except  that  my  own  utility 
in  England  is  gone." 

"I  should  be  sorry  to  be  obliged  to  believe  you." 

"I  am  afraid,  Excellenz,  that  there  is  nothing  left 
for  you  to  do." 

General  von  Stromberg  was  again  busy  examining 
the  cigarette  papers.  Suddenly  he  raised  his  head,, 
his  gaze  boring  into  Hammersley's  face. 

"You  say  this  is  a  copy  of  the  original  message?" 

"Yes,  Excellenz." 

"And  where  did  you  make  it?" 

"In  the  library  upstairs  at  Lady  Heathcote's  in 
Park  Lane." 

"When?" 

"After  my  interview  with  Herr  Rizzio.  It  is  written 
hurriedly,  as  you  will  observe." 

"It  is  written  with  a  pen  finer  than  those  usually 
employed  by  ladies." 

"I  took  what  offered,  Excellenz,"  said  Hammersley. 

"What  was  your  thought  when  you  made  the  copy  ?" 

"That  Rizzio  or  his  agents  would  attempt  to  get  i£ 
away  from  me.  It  seems  that  I  was  right." 

"Are  you  sure  that  he  was  acting  for  England  and 
not  for  me?"  asked  von  Stromberg  quickly. 

"For  you,  Excellenz?" 

149 


THE  YELLOW  DOFE 


"Did  it  not  occur  to  you  that  your  failure  to  accede 
to  his  request  might  have  given  Herr  Rizzio  the  idea 
that  you  were  saving  this  document  from  him  in  order 
that  you  might  deliver  it  to  the  War  Office?" 

"How  could  such  an  idea  occur  to  me  when  I  already 
knew  what  his  object  was?" 

"Oh !  You  are  convinced  that  he  is  for  the  English 
cause?" 

"Naturally.  I  can  conceive  of  no  reason  why  Rizzio 
should  be  for  Germany." 

Von  Stromberg  smiled.  If  this  were  skill  in  parry, 
he  rej  oiced  in  having  met  his  match.  If  it  were  merely 
ingenuousness,  he  was  equally  at  a  loss.  He  had  often 
admitted  to  himself  that  there  were  but  two  kinds  of 
people  in  the  world  that  he  could  not  cope  with — those 
who  never  lost  their  tempers  and  those  who  told  the 
truth.  He  had  taken  advantage  of  Hammersley's 
physical  condition  to  provoke  him  into  irritation,  but 
the  man  was  quite  unruffled.  The  piercing  eye,  the 
threatening  tone  and  the  dominant  air  of  authority 
which  von  Stromberg  had  so  frequently  found  effective 
with  others  had  been  of  no  avail  here.  Herr  Hammers- 
ley  stood  by  the  fire,  erect  and  unperturbed,  calmly 
awaiting  his  dismissal.  If  he  had  told  the  truth,  then 
Rizzio 

"Herr  Rizzio  has  advised  rne  that  you  are  disloyal 
to  Germany,"  said  the  General  at  last.  "You  inform 
me  that  he  is  loyal  to  England." 

Hammersley  shrugged  and  laughed. 

"If  I  were  disloyal  to  Germany,  surely  I  had  proof 
enough  of  your  suspicions  in  your  secret  summons,  to 
remain  at  Bcn-a-Chielt.  It  is  unnecessary  for  me  to 
say  that  I  should  have  come  without  that  summons, 
because  it  was  dangerous  for  me  to  stay." 

150 


HAMMERSLEY  EXPLAINS 

"You  would,  then,  have  me  disregard  the  message 
from  Herr  Rizzio?" 

"No.  I  merely  ask  that  you  wait  until  you  hear 
from  Herr  Maxwell." 

"And  if  Herr  Maxwell  be  dead?"  asked  von  Strom- 
berg  quietly. 

Hammersley's  face  became  grave. 

"In  that  case,  Excellenz,  I  must  rely  on  your  keen- 
ness to  decide  the  issue  between  us." 

Von  Stromberg  slipped  the  packet  of  papers  into 
an  inner  pocket  and  rose  with  a  laugh.  He  covered 
the  distance  between  himself  and  Hammersley  in  three 
paces  with  extended  hands. 

"I  was  only  trying  you,  Herr  Hammersley.  It  is  a 
habit  of  mine.  It  amuses  me.  You  will  forgive  me, 
nicht  wahr?" 

"Willingly,  Excellenz,  if  you  will  provide  me  witH 
food  and  a  bed.  Failing  those,  you  may  have  me  shot 
at  once." 

"Food  you  shall  have,  and  a  bed  is  prepared  in  your 
room  upstairs.  As  for  the  shooting,  perhaps  we  may 
as  well  postpone  that  until  morning." 

He  laughed  jovially,  showing  a  very  fine  set  of 
teeth,  and,  touching  a  bell  which  was  answered  by  Cap- 
tain Wentz,  directed  that  food  and  coffee  be  prepared 
at  once. 

"One  word  more,"  he  went  on,  when  Wentz  went  out, 
"where  did  you  put  this  copy  after  leaving  Lady 
Heathcote's  in  London?" 

"I  slipped  it  down  the  window  sash  in  my  automo- 
bile. They  did  not  even  search  for  it.  I  got  away 
by  a  ruse." 

"No  one  saw  it?" 

*'No  one.     The  message  is  the  same." 
151 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


"H — m!    You  have  a  good  memory?" 

"Excellent." 

"Are  you  sure  that  the  War  Office  knew  of  your 
movements  ?" 

"Positive.  I  know  of  no  one  who  would  try  to 
kill  me " 

"Rizzio?" 

"Acting  for  England,  yes." 

"And  if  he  were  acting  for  Germany?" 

"Then  he  is  a  fool." 

Von  Stromberg  folded  his  long  arms  and  gazed  at 
the  lamp. 

"You  do  not  feel  that  it  would  be  possible  to  return 
at  once?" 

"Not  unless  I  wished  to  be  shot  as  a  spy." 

"What  will  you  do?" 

"Take  whatever  service  you  will  give  me.  Failing 
that  I  will  volunteer  for  aviation." 

The  General,  without  pursuing  the  subject  further, 
motioned  Hammersley  to  the  door. 

"You  will  find  food  ready.  After  eating  you  had 
better  get  to  bed.  I  will  talk  with  you  further  in  the 
morning." 

As  the  door  closed  behind  his  visitor  von  Strom- 
berg  sank  into  the  chair  by  the  fire  and  lighted  a  third 
cigar,  upon  which  he  pulled  steadily  for  some  moments, 
rehearsing  by  question  and  reply  almost  every  word  of 
Hammersley's  story.  By  every  rule  of  the  game  as 
he  knew  it  Herr  Hammersley  should  be  a  liar.  And 
yet  his  story  from  first  to  last  held  water.  There  was 
not  a  flaw  in  its  texture  from  beginning  to  end.  If 
Hammersley  had  not  told  the  truth  he  was  the  most 
skillful  liar  in  Europe,  a  man  who  gave  the  appearance 
of  truthfulness  to  the  last  hair  of  his  head.  And  yet 

152 


it  was  much  more  easy  to  lie  if  one  knew  that  there 
was  no  man  to  oppose  him.  Hammersley  did  not  know 
that  Rizzio  was  on  the  way.  Tomorrow  they  would 
meet.  It  would  be  interesting  to  watch  that  meeting. 
For,  as  to  this  thing,  the  mind  of  the  General  was 
clear.  One  of  these  men  was  false  to  Germany,  the 
other  true,  but  which?  Both  had  come  willingly,  or 
was  it  by  necessity?  And  Herr  Maxwell!  It  was 
strange  that  Maxwell  should  have  failed  in  his  report 
at  this  crucial  moment.  And  if  Maxwell  were  dead — 
who  had  betrayed  him?  General  von  Stromberg's 
thoughts  were  interrupted  by  a  knock  on  the  door  and 
the  entrance  of  the  orderly. 

"A  telegram,  Excellenz,  by  motorcycle  from  Win- 
denberg." 

The  General  opened  the  paper.  It  was  in  code  and 
he  translated  it  rapidly. 

VON  STROMBERG: 

Withhold  judgment  until  my  arrival.  Will  be 
at  Bremen  tomorrow  early  with  Miss  Mather,  who 
possesses  valuable  information. 

RIZZIO. 

General  von  Stromberg  sank  deeper  into  his  chair, 
the  paper  in  his  fingers,  a  smile  broadening  upon  his 
features.  The  woman !  It  was  almost  too  good  to  be 
true.  Miss  Doris  Mather,  the  American  girl,  Ham- 
mersley's  fiancee,  coming  to  Germany  with  Rizzio. 
And  Hammersley  obviously  did  not  know  it.  Intrigue, 
mystery  and  now  romance.  Tomorrow — 

The  man  still  stood  awaiting  orders.  Von  Strom- 
berg  rose  with  a  yawn. 

"Is  my  room  prepared?" 

"Yes,  Excellenz." 

11  153 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


"Which  one?" 

"The  same  as  before — next  to  that  of  Herr  Ham- 
mersley." 

"Well,  move  it  into  the  wing.  And  when  I  go  up 
you  will  set  a  watch  upon  my  door — also  one  outside 
my  windows." 

"Zu  befehl,  ExceUenz" 

"In  the  meanwhile  send  Herr  Hauptmann  Wentz 
to  me  here." 

The  man  went  out  and  Captain  Wentz  entered  im- 
mediately closing  the  door  behind  him. 

"What  time  does  the  northern  express  leare  Bre- 
men in  the  morning?" 

"At  seven." 

General  von  Stromberg  sat  and  wrote  ou*  a  mes- 
sage. 

"Have  this  message  sent  at  once."  And  then,  "That 
train  reaches  Windenberg  at  what  hour?" 

"Twelve." 

"Good.  This  mountain  air  is  excellent  for  the 
nerves.  I  shall  sleep  late  tomorrow  and  do  not  wish  to 
be  called.  You  will  go  personally  to  Windenberg  at 
eleven  o'clock  with  a  closed  carriage.  You  will  meet 
Herr  Rizzio,  whom  you  will  recognize  by  his  tall,  dis- 
tinguished appearance  and  excellent  clothing.  He  will 
be  accompanied  by  a  young  lady.  It  is  my  wish  that 
they  be  brought  to  this  house  and  given  separate  rooms 
on  the  upper  story  and  placed  under  guard  until  I 
summon  them.  No  one  must  see  them  enter  this  house. 
To  accomplish  this  purpose,  Herr  Hammersley  must 
go  to  the  hangar.  The  means  I  leave  to  you.  Cap- 
tain von  Winden  will  be  of  service.  Do  you  under- 
stand?" 

"Perfectly." 

154 


HAMMERSLEY  EXPLAINS 

"For  the  present  that  is  all.  I  shall  go  to  my  room. 
Good  night.'* 

"Good  night,  Excellenz." 

•  •  •  •  • 

Meanwhile,  upstairs  in  his  room,  Hammersley,  after 
having  eaten,  was  preparing  for  bed.  For  a  tired 
man  he  went  about  it  in  a  very  leisurely  way,  smoking 
a  cigarette,  and  wandering  about  the  room  stretching 
his  long  limbs  and  yawning  between  whiles.  Then, 
after  a  time,  he  took  off  his  clothes  and  bathed.  It 
was  perhaps  an  hour  before  he  blew  out  his  candle, 
and  even  then  he  did  not  get  immediately  into  bed. 
He  sat  on  the  edge  of  the  couch  for  a  while,  listening 
and  watching  the  cold  moonlight  outside  his  dormer 
window,  or  the  dim  line  of  light  that  came  from  be- 
neath the  door  into  the  hall.  Then,  apparently  satis- 
fied that  he  was  to  be  quite  free  from  interruption,  he 
straightened  and  stood  up,  waiting  again.  Still  no 
sound.  He  reached  for  the  table,  where  he  had  put 
his  watch  and  the  things  from  his  pockets,  and  picked 
up  a  large  pocket-knife,  carefully  opening  the  large 
blade.  Then,  with  quick,  noiseless  footsteps,  he 
crossed  the  room  to  the  fireplace  and  felt  with  the  fin- 
gers of  one  hand  carefully  along  the  edge  of  the  chim- 
ney breast.  His  fingers  reached  a  spot  where  there 
was  an  unevenness,  and  feeling  carefully,  thrust  the 
knife-blade  its  full  length  beneath  the  paper,  slowly 
withdrawing  it.  Something  protruded  which  was 
quickly  taken  into  the  palm  of  his  left  hand.  With 
great  care  he  smoothed  the  broken  wallpaper  back  into 
its  place  and  noiselessly  closing  the  knife  got  softly 
into  bed. 

He  lay  on  his  back  for  a  while,  his  eyes  wide  open, 
watching  the  window  and  the  door  and  then,  pulling 

155 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


the  heavy  blankets  up,  slipped  lower  and  lower  under 
the  covers  until  he  disappeared  from  view.  In  the 
room  all  was  dark,  but  under  the  blankets  he  read  by 
the  light  of  an  electric  pocket  torch  some  writing  in 
•German  upon  a  thin  slip  of  paper. 

Papers     arrive    tomorrow     night,     eleven — from 
Berlin — automobile — by  Schondorf  road. 


CHAPTER    XIII 
THE   UNWILLING  GUEST 

AFTER  the  light  of  dawn  went  out  upon  the 
cliffs  of  Rhuda  Mor,  Doris  Mather  hung  for 
a  long  while  upon  the  brink  of  an  abyss,  be- 
low her  darkness,  above  her  light.  She  strove  up- 
ward, but  in  the  dim  moments  of  half-consciousness 
was  aware  of  a  force  restraining  her  and  a  recurrence 
of  the  odor  in  which  the  darkness  had  first  come.  She 
had  a  sense  of  motion  and  of  jolting,  the  feeling  of 
arms  about  her,  a  descent,  the  sound  of  water  and  the 
rocking  of  a  boat.  Brief  glimpses  she  had  of  sun- 
light, which  revealed  outlines  dimly,  like  the  glow  of 
summer  lightning  upon  familiar  objects,  making  them 
curiously  unfamiliar.  John  Rizzio's  face  persisted  in 
these  visions,  a  fantastic  Rizzio,  much  larger  than  the 
man  she  knew,  deferential  and  punctilious  as  ever,  and 
strangely  grave.  A  stout  man  with  a  swarthy  face 
in  a  cap  and  brass  buttons,  just  above  her,  darkly 
outlined  against  white  clouds  which  seemed  to  be  whirl- 
ing rapidly  past  him.  Dully  she  found  herself  won- 
dering where  the  clouds  were  going  so  rapidly  and 
why  they  didn't  come  back.  .  .  .  Later,  darkness  and 
peace,  where  there  were  no  visions  and  the  sky  no 
longer  whirled  ...  a  steady  vibration  which  soothed 
her,  and  she  blissfully  slept. 

When  she  awoke  the  visions  were  gone,  and  as  her 
senses  returned  she  started  up,  but  her  head  swam 
and  she  sank  back  again.  As  she  had  risen  a  woman 

157 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


emerged  from  the  shadows  of  the  room  and  came  for- 
ward. And  then  slowly,  as  full  consciousness  returned, 
the  girl  realized  that  she  was  on  an  ocean-going  vessel 
in  a  cabin  or  stateroom  very  beautifully  appointed. 
She  started  up  in  her  bed  and  looked  out  of  the  port- 
hole to  see  the  amber  crests  of  waves  leaping  rapidly 
past.  Then  she  heard  the  woman's  voice  speaking. 

"You  are  feeling  better?" 

Doris  turned  and  looked  at  her,  a  woman  of  middle 
age,  with  a  kindly  face,  dressed  in  white  linen. 

"What  yacht  is  this?"  she  asked. 

"The  Sylph,  miss — Mr.  Rizzio's,"  she  replied. 

Doris  thought  for  a  moment.  The  last  thing  her 
waking  consciousness  remembered  were  the  cliffs  of 
Rhuda  Mor. 

"How  did  I  come  here?"  she  asked  again. 

The  woman  shook  her  head.     "I  don't  know,  miss." 

Her  manner  was  kind  and  most  respectful  but  her 
tone  was  decisive.  She  was  obeying  instructions. 

"Is  Mr.  Rizzio  aboard?"  Doris  asked  again. 

"Yes,  miss.  And  he  asked  me  to  tell  you  that  when 
you  felt  sufficiently  recovered  he  would  be  glad  to 
wait  upon  you  in  the  saloon." 

"Oh,  I  understand." 

When  Doris  rose  and  put  her  feet  to  the  swaying 
deck,  nausea  overcame  her.  But  the  woman,  who  was 
prepared  for  this  emergency,  offered  a  glass  filled  with 
cloudy  liquid. 

"Brink  this,"  she  said.  "It  will  make  you  feel  bet- 
ter." 

Doris  looked  into  the  woman's  face,  and  recognizing 
the  aromatic  odor,  took  the  draught. 

The  nausea  passed  after  a  moment  and  she  managed 
to  get  up  and  make  her  way  to  the  bathroom.  As 

158 


THE  UNWILLING  'GUEST 

she  bathed  her  face,  memory  returned,  full  memory 
of  the  events  of  the  previous  night,  the  scene  upon  the 
cliffs,  with  Cyril,  the  destroyer,  Rizzio,  Stryker, 
Rudha  Mor,  the  Yellow  Dove  and  then  unconsciousness. 
Chloroform !  There  wera  vestiges  of  it  upon  her  cloth- 
ing still.  They  had  drugged  her.  When  she  took  off 
her  shirtwaist  something  fell  to  the  floor.  A  paper. 
She  picked  it  up  and  looked  at  it.  It  was  Rizzio's 
note  to  her  at  Kilmorack  House  asking  her  to  come  to 
!Ben-a-Chielt — so  that  he  might  make  her  prisoner! 
She  remembered  now  that  she  had  thrust  it  into  her 
waist  when  she  went  out.  She  folded  the  letter  care- 
fully and  put  it  in  her  stays.  After  the  other  in- 
dignity she  had  suffered,  it  seemed  strange  that  they 
had  not  searched  her,  too.  She  would  keep  the  letter. 
Perhaps  later  she  would  find  use  for  it. 

John  Rizzio!  It  was  difficult  for  her  mind  to  asso- 
ciate him  with  the  villainy  of  abduction.  And  yet, 
as  her  brain  grew  clearer,  she  became  quite  sure  that 
there  was  no  other  answer  to  the  problem.  Indeed, 
from  the  replies  of  the  stewardess  she  knew  that  John 
Rizzio  had  chosen  that  she  should  know  it  was  to  be  a 
problem  no  longer.  The  Sylph,  that  was  his"  yacht. 
She  had  been  on  the  boat  before,  two  years  ago,  dur- 
ing the  races  in  the  Solent.  Abduction!  He  had 
dared!  She  was  not  frightened  yet.  Fury  at  his 
temerity  blinded  her  to  all  sense  of  danger.  A  phrase 
of  Cyril's  came  back  to  her,  illuminating  the  chaos 
of  her  thoughts.  "You  know  too  much — too  much 
for  your  own  good — or  mine."  Cyril's  cigarette  pa- 
pers !  She  was  the  only  one  beside  Cyril  who  had  read 
their  contents !  Rizzio  had  carried  her  off,  had  brought 
her  to  the  Sylph,  which  was  out  of  sight  of  land,  speed- 
ing for — Germany !  What  was  he  going  to  do  with  her? 

159 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


Fury  passed  and  weakness  followed.  She  did  not 
know  what  time  of  day  it  was,  but  she  was  aware 
that  it  had  been  long  since  she  had  eaten.  In  the 
cabin  she  found  a  tray  set  with  food  and  coffee  which 
the  stewardess  insisted  upon  serving  her.  She  sank 
into  an  armchair,  refusing  to  eat,  but  the  woman  per- 
1  sisted  and  the  odor  of  the  coffee  was  tempting.  It 
was  luncheon,  she  found,  and  remembered  that  she  had 
had  no  appetite  for  dinner  at  Lady  Heathcote's  and 
that  it  must  be  quite  twenty-four  hours  since  she  had 
broken  bread.  The  coffee  gave  her  courage,  and  in 
spite  of  herself  she  found  that  she  was  eating  heartily 
with  a  genuine  relish.  She  was  a  good  sailor  and  the 
nausea,  which  she  now  knew  was  the  effect  of  the  drug, 
had  passed.  The  stewardess  stood  beside  her  and  to 
the  other  questions  Doris  put  to  her  answered  politely, 
but  volunteered  nothing  further  than  she  had  already 
told.  In  spite  of  the  woman's  care  and  attention  the 
girl  could  not  get  rid  of  the  idea  that  the  stewardess 
had  been  sent  as  a  guardian  as  well  as  a  maid.  She 
was  a  prisoner  of  John  Rizzio,  of  Germany,  whither 
he  was  bringing  her  as  fast  as  the  yacht  could  take 
them. 

Finding  at  last  that  her  attempts  to  extract  infor- 
mation from  her  stolid  servitress  were  fruitless,  and 
feeling  strengthened  by  the  food  she  had  taken,  she 
got  up  and  told  the  woman  that  she  was  going  on  deck, 
asking  that  Mr.  Rizzio  be  informed  that  she  would 
see  him.  As  she  emerged  upon  deck  the  crisp  wintry 
air  sent  the  color  slowly  into  her  pallid  cheeks.  The 
yacht  was  bowling  along  with  the  wind  and  sea  quar- 
tering and  the  foam-crests  leaped  alongside,  sending 
an  occasional  spurt  of  spray  into  the  air,  where  the 
wind  caught  it  and  blew  it  across  the  decks  in  a 

160 


feathery  mist  of  rainbows.  The  sunlight  glinted  on 
polished  wood  and  brasswork  and  at  the  stern 
caught  in  the  cross  of  St.  George  where  the  flag 
of  England  flapped  in  the  breeze.  The  flag  of  Eng- 
land sheltering  John  Rizzio!  She  scanned  the  horizon 
anxiously.  Perhaps  an  English  cruiser  or  destroyer 
might  come  to  whom  she  might  be  able  to  tell  the  real 
character  of  the  owner  of  the  vessel.  But  there  was 
no  vessel  in  sight.  A  sailor  passed  her  and  touched 
his  cap.  The  deference  encouraged  her.  It  reminded 
her  that  this  was  the  same  deck  upon  which  she  had 
stood  when  John  Rizzio  was  suing  for  her  hand,  an 
honorable  host  when  she  had  been  an  honored  guest. 
A  loud  crackling  came  to  her  ears  from  the  wireless 
room.  He  was  there,  already  in  communication  with 
his  employers  in  Germany.  Even  now,  with  Cyril's 
words  still  ringing  in  her  ears,  she  found  it  difficult  to 
believe  that  John  Rizzio  was  England's  enemy ;  and  the 
price  of  his  treachery  a  picture,  "The  Descent  from 
the  Cross"!  What  a  mockery  that  a  man  who  would 
stoop  to  such  dishonor  could  make  its  price  a  picture 
which  typified  the  conquest  of  sublime  virtue  even 
over  death! 

The  wind  was  searching  and  the  maid  brought  a 
heavy  coat  with  brass  buttons  from  below  and  put  it 
on  her  with  the  word  that  Mr.  Rizzio  had  sent  it  and 
would  come  to  her  in  a  few  moments.  She  sat  in  a 
deckchair  in  the  lee  of  the  deckhouse,  her  lips  firmly 
compressed,  trying  to  think  what  his  ulterior  purpose 
might  be,  planning  a  defense  which  might  make  her  in- 
vulnerable, an  attack  which  might  search  his  intentions 
and  discover  the  true  relation  that  was  to  exist  be- 
tween them. 

He  came  toward  her  from  forward,  muffled  in  a 
161 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


greatcoat,  and  carrying  a  rug.  He  took  off  his  cap 
with  an  air  of  deference,  which  answered  at  once  some 
of  her  questions.  She  rose  and  faced  him,  her  color 
high. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  with  me?"  she  asked, 
trying  to  keep  her  lips  from  trembling. 

He  smiled  c°nd  pulled  at  his  mustache. 

"First,  I  hope  you'll  give  me  a  chance  to  explain." 

"What?"  she  cried  hotly.  "What  can  you  explain? 
Don't  you  suppose  I  know  what  you  are?  A  German 
spy,  a  traitor  to  England,  and  worse  than  that — a 
woman-baiter  and  a  coward,  Mr.  Rizzio." 

He  bent  his  head. 

"I  make  no  defense,"  he  said,  "except  necessity." 
And  then  gravely  indicating  the  chair  from  which  she 
had  risen.  "Won't  you  sit  down?  The  voyage  may 
be  long." 

But  she  still  stood. 

"I  am  a  prisoner,  not  a  guest." 

"Then  I  command  you  to  sit,"  he  said  with  a  laugh. 
"Won't  you?" 

A  sound  of  exasperation  came  from  her  throat  and 
she  obeyed  him,  her  gaze  on  the  sea,  while  with  some 
ostentation  he  covered  her  with  a  rug. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  with  me  in  Germany?" 
she  repeated  dully. 

He  sank  into  the  chair  beside  her.  "As  I  have  often 
told  you,  you  are  a  woman  of  rare  intelligence.  In 
reply  I  can  only  say  that,  unfortunately,  I  do  not 
know." 

"A  coward  who  is  also  a — a  liar,"  she  said  bitterly. 

"A  coward  is  usually  a  liar,  but  a  liar  isn't  always  a 
coward.  I  am  a  liar,  Doris,  if  you  will,  but  a  cour- 


ageous one."  • 


162 


THE  UNWILLING  GUEST 

"My  name  is  Mather,"  she  said  distinctly. 

He  shrugged  and  turned  his  gaze  on  the  sea. 

"You  hate  me,  of  course.  We  are  enemies.  I  am 
sorry.  I  warned  you  that  you  were  entangled  in  an 
affair  that  was  leading  you  into  dangerous  paths.  I 
would  have  saved  you,  if  I  could,  but  you  had  learned 
too  much." 

"And  so  you  had  me  chloroformed.  It  was  a  pity 
that  you  didn't  complete  your  work." 

"I  merely  did  what  was  required  of  me.  Through 
a  most  unfortunate  combination  of  circumstances  you 
came  into  possession  of  a  secret  known  to  but  one 
person  in  England;  and  you  are  the  only  person  with 
English  sympathies  who  knows  my  exact  political 
status " 

"A  spy!"  contemptuously. 

"What  you  will — a  spy  if  you  like — but  a  strong 
friend  of  Germany  who  resents  an  attempt  by  a  nation 
jealous  of  her  growing  commercial  supremacy  to  wipe 
her  out  of  existence.  I  have  lived  in  England  long, 
and  I  have  known  many  of  the  men  who  have  made 
her  what  she  is,  but  never  in  all  those  years  has  Eng- 
land ever  given  me  one  token  of  the  high  nobility  she 
preaches.  I  have  passed  for  many  years  as  an  Eng- 
lishman. I  am  not  English.  I  am  cosmopolitan  and 
to  a  cosmopolitan,  residence  is  but  an  accident." 

"Pray  spare  me  the  details  of  your  treachery." 

He  laughed  easily. 

"I'm  afraid  you're  at  my  mercy.  I  shall  try  to  be 
lenient.  You  are  an  American,  I  am  an  Italian.  To 
call  me  a  traitor  to  England  because  I  happen  to  have 
a  liking  for  Germany  would  be  much  like  my  calling 
you  a  traitor  to  Germany  because  you  happen  to  have 
a  liking  for  England." 

163 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


"I  have  never  eaten  the  bread  and  salt  of  Germany, 
or  wormed  my  way  into  the  hearts  of  its  people." 

"I'm  sure  you  flatter  me.  The  people  of  my  set  in 
London  are  agreeable,  but : 

Doris  had  straightened  in  the  act  of  rising. 

"I  did  not  come  on  deck  to  discuss  your  ideals  or 
Germany's.  I  hope  that  you  will  excuse 

"You  will  not  listen?" 

"No.  I  care  nothing  for  your  political  views.  I 
am  your  prisoner.  I  want  to  know  without  further 
words  the  worst  that  I  am  to  expect  from  you." 

"You  have  been  upon  the  Sylph  before.  What  was 
proper  for  you  then  is  proper  for  you  now.  You  are 
quite  safe  in  my  hands.  I  shall  try  to  make  you  com- 
fortable. Does  that  answer  your  question?" 

"And  after " 

"You  are  to  be  delivered  to  the  head  of  the  Secret 
Service  Department  of  the  German  Empire." 

The  girl  paled  and  sank  back  into  her  chair. 

"Why?"  she  asked. 

"Because  you  are  in  possession  of  information  that 
he  wants." 

"What  information?  It  isn't  true.  I  know  noth- 
ing." 

"I  am  sorry,"  he  apologized  again.  "The  cigarette 
papers.  You  read  them." 

"No— no." 

"You  forget  that  you  have  already  admitted  that. 
You  have  also  read  the  second  message  which  was  to 
take  the  place  of  the  first." 

"You  are  dreaming.  A  second  message?  I  know 
nothing  of  a  second  message." 

"Pardon  me,  if  I  remind  you  of  it.  You  would 
hare  burned  it  in  the  drawing-room  at  Kilmorack 

164 


THE  UNWILLING  GUEST 

House  if  Mr.  Hammersley  hadn't  taken  it  from  your 
hand." 

She  stared  at  him  bewildered  at  his  astounding  om- 
niscience, his  devilish  ingenuity.  It  frightened  her,  his 
cleverness  and  his  pursuit  of  her.  It  seemed  that  she 
had  never  had  a  chance  to  get  away  from  him.  And 
yet  his  manner  was  so  carefully  studied,  his  attitude 
toward  her  so  coldly  impersonal  that  as  a  man  once 
a  lover  she  no  longer  feared  him.  If  love  of  her  had 
ever  been  in  his  heart,  a  greater  passion  had  burned 
it  out.  She  was  grateful  for  this  and  prepared  to 
measure  her  woman's  wit  to  his,  thinking  of  Cyril. 
What  would  Cyril  have  her  do? 

"You  mean  that  you  will  let  them — the  German* — • 
question  me?" 

"If  they  wish  to  do  so." 

"But  how  will  it  benefit  them,  if  the  paperi  are 
already  in  their  possession?" 

"You  will  forgive  me  if  I  find  it  possible  to  doubt." 

She  turned  away  from  him  and  studied  the  lines  of 
foam  that  streamed  across  the  green  troughs  of  the 
sea. 

"I  suppose  that  conversation  between  us  two  is  su- 
perfluous. You  distrust  me  and  I " 

"I  think  perhaps,"  he  said  gravely,  "that  it  would 
be  pleasanter  for  both  of  us  not  to  hear  your  senti- 
ments toward  me.  Since  the  night  of  Lady  Heath- 
cote's  dinner  in  London  you  ceased  to  be  Miss  Doris 
Mather  and  became  merely  an  official  document.  It  is 
my  duty  to  preserve  it  and  deliver  it  safely." 

"I  hope  you  may  succeed.  Otherwise  the  American 
Ambassador  in  Berlin  may " 

"Unfortunately,"  he  went  on  quietly,  "the  American 
Ambassador  cannot  be  informed." 

165 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


She  laughed  with  a  greater  confidence  than  she  felt. 

"You  surely  can't  believe  that  my  absence  from 
England  will  pass  unnoticed.  Do  you  think  that  my 
father — that  Lady  Heathcote 

She  paused  bewildered. 

"They  will  merely  know  that  you  rode  late  at  night 
to  Ben-a-Chielt  and  that  your  horse  was  found  rider- 
less on  the  moor." 

She  buried  her  face  in  her  hands  and  a  sob  broke 
from  her  throat.  It  was  true.  They  would  think  her 
dead.  For  the  first  time  she  really  was  able  to  think 
of  things  in  their  true  aspect. 

"It's  cruel,"  she  gasped.     "How  could  you!" 

He  was  too  wise  to  touch  her  or  even  by  his  manner 
to  show  too  deep  a  sympathy. 

"I  am  sorry,"  he  said  coolly,  "awfully  sorry.  As 
you  know,  I  would  have  had  things  different.  You 
may  still  doubt  me  when  I  say  that  what  I  have  done 
is  the  hardest  task  that  I  ever  undertook  in  my  life. 
But  that  is  true.  You  were  the  only  person  in  Eng- 
land who  jeopardized  my  existence  there.  I  had  to 
take  you  away.  I  regret  the  necessity  of  having  to  use 
force.  I  shall  do  what  I  can  here  upon  the  Sylpli  to 
counteract  the  unpleasant  impression  of  my  brutality. 
I  am  not  a  bully  and  a  woman-baiter.  I  am  a  spoke  in 
the  wheel  of  destiny  which  you  had  clogged.  By  all ' 
the  rules  of  the  game  you  should  have  died.  Reasons 
which  I  need  not  mention  made  your  death  at  my  hands 
an  impossibility.  So  I  merely  removed  you  to  a  place 
of  safety.  No  harm  shall  come  to  you,  I  pledge  my 
honor." 

"Thanks,"  she  said  dully,  struggling  up,  her  face 
away  from  him.  And  then  dauntlessly,  "Small  a  thing 
as  it  is,  I  must  be  content  with  that."  She  had  risen 

166 


THE  UNWILLING  GUEST 

and  turned,  "And  now,  if  you  don't  mind,  I  will  go 
below.  I  would  prefer  to  be  alone.  If,  as  you  protest, 
you  would  do  me  kindness,  you  will  not  ask  to  see  me." 

He  bowed. 

"I  have  given  instructions  that  you  shall  be  allowed 
to  do  as  you  please.  Mrs.  Madden  will  furnish  you 
with  all  that  you  require  both  I  think  of  linen  and 
toilet  articles.  I  shall  not  try  to  see  you  again  until 
we  land." 

She  bowed  her  head  and  went  down.  Rizzio  watched 
her  until  she  disappeared  and  then  walked  over  to  the 
rail  and  peered  out  over  the  sea.  It  had  taken  some 
self-command  to  go  through  this  interview  as  he  had 
planned  it,  and  in  conquering  himself  he  had  succeeded 
in  establishing  a  relation  between  them  which  made  his 
presence  at  least  bearable  to  her.  The  impersonal  tone 
which  he  had  used  through  the  interview  was  the  one 
most  calculated  to  put  her  at  her  ease  with  him  and 
the  perfect  frankness  of  his  confession  had  made  her 
understand  at  once  that  sentimentally  at  least  she  had 
nothing  to  fear  from  him.  John  Rizzio  was  wise  in 
the  ways  of  women  and  the  particular  woman  now 
thrown  upon  his  mercy,  even  though  she  was  the  one 
woman  in  the  world  he  had  thought  the  most  desirable, 
was  to  be  treated  with  the  delicate  consideration  due 
to  her  unfortunate  dependence  upon  him.  A  flash  of 
sentiment,  a  breath  of  revelation  of  his  ultimate  pur- 
poses toward  her,  and  the  woman  would  be  lost  to 
him.  Her  misfortunes  if  anything  had  made  her  more 
desirable  than  ever,  especially  since  he  had  been  the 
cause  of  them.  For  one  mad  moment,  he  had  thought 
this  morning  of  turning  the  Sylph  toward  the  waters 
of  the  South  Atlantic,  forgetting  the  quarrels  of  the 
nations  in  which  he  had  become  involved,  and  of  seek- 

167 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


ing  a  new  world  where  he  could  begin  again,  trusting 
to  time  and  opportunity  and  his  own  patience  and  tact 
to  bring  a  sentimental  victory  out  of  what  had  already 
been  defeat.  A  mad  moment  but  a  tempting  one.  But 
the  time  was  not  yet.  He  must  be  patient.  With 
Hammersley  gone 

He  straightened  and  slowly  strolled  forward  to  the 
wireless  room.  Toward  evening  he  was  given  con- 
firmation of  the  wisdom  of  his  course,  for  as  he  was 
pacing  the  deck  aft  she  came  up  from  below  and  joined 
him.  She  was  looking  rather  white,  but  she  smiled  at 
him  brightly  and  matched  her  steps  to  his. 

"I  was  lonely  below,"  she  said.     "You  don't  mind?" 

He  had  never  thought  her  lovelier.  Her  face,  if 
anything,  had  always  needed  just  those  shadows  of 
pain  to  make  it  perfect. 

"I  hadn't  hoped  for  such  a  kindness.  You  are  feel- 
ing better?" 

"Yes,  thanks.  And  since  we  must  meet  I  am  willing 
to  try  to  be  friendly." 

"I'm  sure  you'll  find  that  I'll  meet  you  more  than 
halfway,"  he  said  politely. 

They  talked  far  into  the  evening  and  at  her  request 
they  dined  together  in  the  saloon.  He  was  reserved 
but  not  cautious,  and  when  the  evening  was  over  re- 
membered hazily  that  she  had  succeeded  in  learning 
something  from  him  of  General  von  Stromberg,  the 
head  of  the  German  Secret  Service  Department,  of  the 
aviation  field  at  Windenberg  and  of  the  frequent  flights 
of  the  Yellow  Dove  since  the  beginning  of  the  winter. 

The  next  morning  passed  quietly.  Doris  did  not 
appear  until  noon.  But  just  before  luncheon  a  smudge 
of  smoke  appeared  upon  the  horizon,  which  rapidly 
grew  larger,  and  in  a  little  while  she  made  out  the  lines 

168 


THE  UNWILLING  GUEST 

of  a  war  vessel  steaming  in  a  direction  which  would 
intercept  the  yacht.  The  Sylph  did  not  slow  down  un- 
til a  solid  shot  from  a  gun  in  the  forecastle  of  the  de- 
stroyer went  ricochetting  across  her  bows,  when  the 
engine  was  stopped  and  John  Rizzio  made  slowly  aft  to 
where  she  stood. 

"Miss  Mather,"  he  said  briefly,  "I  must  ask  you  to 
go  below  to  your  cabin  at  once." 

A  glance  at  his  face  showed  that  her  protests  would 
have  been  useless  and  she  went  below  to  her  own  state- 
room, the  door  of  which  was  locked  upon  her.  Through 
the  heavy  glass  of  her  port-hole  she  saw  the  vessel  ap- 
proach until  within  hailing  distance  when  a  boat 
dropped  from  her  side  into  which  a  boat's  crew  and  an. 
officer  clambered  and  rowed  alongside.  The  vessel  bore 
no  flag,  but  the  girl  clearly  heard  the  hail  of  the 
boarding  officer  and  realized  that  the  destroyer  was 
an  English  vessel.  Her  hopes  rose.  Perhaps  even  now 
the  Englishman  would  find  something  irregular  in  the 
yacht's  papers  and  would  take  charge,  conveying  her 
back  to  England.  She  waited  for  a  long  time  and 
then  heard  the  clatter  of  oars  and  saw  the  boat  push 
off  from  the  side  of  the  yacht,  while  the  officer,  young, 
slender  and  windburned,  stood  up  in  the  stern  sheets 
of  his  boat. 

"All  right,"  she  heard  him  say,  "sorry  to  have  trou- 
bled you.  Pleasant  voyage.  Good-by." 

Never  had  English  sounded  so  good  to  her.  But 
it  was  with  a  sigh  of  despair  that  she  saw  the  boat 
reach  the  side  of  the  war  vessel  and  felt  the  steadily 
increasing  rhythm  of  the  engines  of  the  yacht  as  she 
drove  once  more  upon  her  way. 

When  the  two  vessels  were  at  a  distance  from  each 
other  the  key  turned  in  the  lock  of  the  door  and  in 
12  169 


THE  YELLOW  DOFE 


reply  to  a  knock,  she  found  John  Rizzio  himself,  stand- 
ing hat  in  hand  in  the  gangway. 

"I  seem  to  be  in  a  continual  state  of  apology.  But 
of  course  you  realize  the  necessity  for  my  action." 

"I  am  in  your  power,"  she  said  helplessly. 

"I  hope  you  will  believe  that  I  shall  not  abuse  it." 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders  and  followed'  him  to 
luncheon,  managing  to  preserve  at  table  a  cheerfulness 
which  she  was  far  from  feeling.  Throughout  the 
morning  she  had  been  thinking  hard.  And  the  only 
course  that  was  open  to  her  if  her  courage  did  not 
fail  was  the  one  that  she  was  following.  If  she  was 
to  be  able  in  any  way  to  help  Cyril,  she  must  try  to 
learn  what  she  could,  accept  the  situation  with  good 
grace  and  perhaps  by  some  turn  of  good  fortune  find 
a  way  to  disarm  John  Rizzio  and  profit  by  an  inadver- 
tence or  mistake.  But  as  the  second  day  wore  on  she 
found  her  task  increasingly  difficult.  At  luncheon  Mr. 
Rizzio  was  more  reserved  and  during  the  afternoon 
as  they  approached  waters  in  which  German  warships 
were  more  likely  to  be  found  he  spent  much  time  in  the 
wireless  room,  where  a  repetition  of  the  crackling 
noises  advised  her  that  he  was  again  in  communication 
with  the  land  of  her  enemies. 

After  dinner,  at  which  Rizzio  had  been  very  quiet, 
he  requested  politely  that  she  go  at  once  to  her  cabin, 
which  she  did  to  hear  the  sound  of  the  key  again 
turned  in  the  lock  of  her  door.  Despair  came  over  her 
and  at  last  she  cried  herself  to  sleep,  awakening  during 
the  night  at  the  glare  of  a  searchlight  which  pierced 
her  window  port.  She  got  up  and  looked  out  to  see 
a.  dark  bulk  looming  alongside,  the  flashing  of  lan- 
terns, and  heard  the  sound  of  voices  speaking  Ger- 
man. At  last  all  was  quiet  again,  and  the  steady 

170 


THE  UNWILLING  GUEST 

hammer  of  the  vessel's  propeller  told  her  that  the 
Sylph  was  again  on  her  way. 

She  must  have  slept  again,  for  the  silver  of  dawn 
was  already  modifying  the  gloom  of  her  cabin  when 
there  was  a  knock  upon  her  door  and  she  rose.  The 
stewardess  fully  dressed  was  outside. 

"Mr.  Rizzio  asks  me  to  request  you  to  please  dress 
at  once,  as  breakfast  will  be  served  in  half  an  hour." 

She  obeyed  blindly  aware  that  there  was  no  motion 
to  the  deck  of  her  cabin  and  that  the  Sylph  was  now 
riding  on  an  even  keel.  She  verified  her  guess  at  the 
nearness  of  their  destination  by  a  glance  through  the 
port-hole,  which  showed  her  that  the  vessel  had 
reached  the  quieter  waters  of  a  bay  or  river  in  which 
she  slipped  smoothly  onward.  There  were  vessels  at 
anchor,  large  and  small,  and  beyond  them  she  made 
out  the  lines  of  a  shore,  upon  which  at  intervals  build- 
ings loomed. 

Mrs.  Madden,  the  stewardess,  would  not  talk  and  it 
was  not  until  she  reached  the  breakfast  table  that 
Doris  learned  where  they  were. 

"We  shall  reach  Bremen  shortly,"  said  Rizzio.  "I 
do  not  know  how  you  feel  about  the  matter,  but  I 
would  suggest  that  it  would  save  you  much  trouble 
and  anxiety  to  trust  yourself  entirely  into  my  hands.'* 

"I  know  of  nothing  else,"  she  said  quietly.  "What 
are  you  going  to  do?" 

"I  shall  confer  with  certain  officials  when  we  reach 
the  city,  which  will  be  in  a  few  moments.  After  that 
we  will  take  the  seven  o'clock  train  for  Windenberg." 


CHAPTER   XIV 
VON   STROMBERG   CATECHISES 

TO  the  girl  the  way  from  Bremen  to  Windenberg 
seemed  interminable.  She  shared  with  John 
Rizzio  a  private  compartment  in  the  train. 
He  was  still  ceremoniously  polite  and  inclined  to  con- 
versation, but  now,  thoroughly  realizing  the  danger 
which  faced  her  as  well  as  Cyril,  Doris  had  decided 
upon  a  policy  of  silence.  She  would  wait  until  she 
learned  what  they  required  of  her  and  then  perhaps 
some  instinct  or  inspiration  would  direct  her.  Of  one 
thing  she  was  certain,  that  nothing  could  make  her 
speak  if  she  did  not  think  it  wise  to  do  so. 

When  Rizzio  commented  upon  the  beauty  of  the 
passing  landscape  she  assented  with  a  smile  and  then 
returned  to  her  own  thoughts.  Cyril,  she  knew,  would 
be  at  Windenberg,  for  it  was  to  Windenberg  that  the 
Yellow  Dove  had  made  its  flights.  She  had  succeeded 
in  eliciting  that  much  information  from  her  captor 
the  other  night  at  dinner  when  he  was  attempting  by 
frankness  and  hospitality  to  minimize  the  brutality 
of  his  actions.  She  had  many  reasons  to  believe  that 
he  had  already  regretted  that  frankness  for  at  every 
subsequent  attempt  of  hers  to  get  more  informa- 
tion about  von  Stromberg,  John  Rizzio  had  turned 
the  subject  adroitly  or  had  remained  obstinately 
silent. 

She  tried  to  put  together  the  scraps  of  information 
she  possessed  in  order  to  understand  just  what  Cyril's 

172 


TON  STEOMEERG  CATECHISES 

position  at  Windenberg  might  be.  He  had  answered 
the  summons  of  the  secret  messenger  willingly  and  at 
once.  That  much  was  in  his  favor.  If  they  had  sus- 
pected him  before,  this  immediate  obedience  must  have 
disarmed  them.  In  the  mind  of  General  von  Strom- 
berg  there  could  be  no  possible  reason  why  Cyril 
should  put  himself  at  his  mercy.  General  von  Strom- 
berg  could  not  know  as  she  knew  that  Cyril  had  an- 
other mission  to  perform.  She  looked  up  quickly  to 
find  John  Rizzio's  dark  eyes  gazing  at  her.  He  fright- 
ened her  at  that  moment,  for  it  almost  seemed  from 
the  expression  of  his  face  that  he  had  succeeded  in 
reading  her  thoughts — and  in  the  light  of  his  previous 
omniscience  even  that  psychic  feat  seemed  within  the 
realm  of  possibility.  But  he  merely  smiled  at  her  and 
looked  out  of  the  window. 

That  mission  of  Cyril's!  What  was  it?  The  ob- 
taining of  some  information  necessary  to  England? 
Some  military  secret  such  as  the  machinery  of  ord- 
nance or  the  chemical  mixture  of  explosive  shells?  Or 
was  it  something  more  personal,  more  sinister  and 
dreadful — the  death  of  some  high  official — perhaps  the 
Emperor  himself?  She  shuddered  and  shut  her  eyes, 
her  mind  painting  unimaginable  horrors.  Not  murder 
— even  for  Cyril  she  could  not  connive  at  that.  Bu£ 
»he  must  be  prepared  to  do  something  for  him,  to  help 
him,  if  she  could  by  false  testimony  or  if  necessary, 
no  matter  what  they  did  to  her,  by  silence.  If  they 
suspected  Cyril,  of  course  he  would  be  kept  in  ignor- 
ance of  her  arrival.  Of  all  these  things  and  others 
she  thought  with  ever-growing  doubt  and  timidity. 
And  all  the  while  in  the  back  of  her  head  was  the  idea 
of  her  possible  appeal  to  the  American  Ambassador 
at  Berlin. 

173 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


But  if  she  had  any  hopes  that  an  opportunity  would 
be  given  her  to  use  the  post,  or  even  to  be  free  from 
surveillance,  their  arrival  at  Windenberg  speedily  di- 
minished them.  For  upon  the  platform  of  the  small 
station  a  German  officer  met  them  and  conducted  them 
at  once  to  a  closed  carriage  which  started  off  through 
the  village  immediately.  The  officer  and  Mr.  Rizzio 
exchanged  a  few  commonplaces  which  politely  included 
her,  but  as  to  the  real  meaning  of  her  visit  and  their 
possible  intentions — nothing.  So  she  sank  back  in  her 
seat  and  looked  out  through  a  small  window  at  the 
forest  into  which  the  road  almost  immediately  passed, 
reaching  their  destination  in  apparent  calmness,  the 
high  tension  of  her  nerves  resolutely  schooled  to  obedi- 
ence. 

A  farmhouse  in  the  midst  of  meadows  surrounded 
by  forests,  with  a  broad  hospitable  door  in  which  they 
entered,  seeing  no  one.  The  German  officer  who  di- 
rected them  showed  her  the  way  to  a  room  upstairs 
and  when  she  was  in  the  room  locked  the  door.  She 
was  in  the  dark,  for  the  shutters  of  the  windows  were 
closed.  Her  first  impulse  at  reaching  a  haven  of  pri- 
vacy even  though  a  prison  was  to  seek  the  line  of  least 
resistance  and  give  her  nerves  the  relaxation  they 
needed  in  tears.  But  she  fought  the  weakness  down, 
going  to  the  windows  and  peering  out  through  a  crack 
in  the  shutters.  When  she  tried  to  open  them,  she  dis- 
covered that  they  were  locked  or  nailed  from  the  out- 
side. She  had  been  a  prisoner  she  knew,  upon  the 
yacht,  but  the  firmness  with  which  the  hard  wood  and 
iron  resisted  her  efforts  gave  her  for  the  first  time  the 
grim  reality  of  her  predicament.  A  prisoner  in  the 
heart  of  a  German  forest  with  no  way  to  turn  for 
help!  Where  was  Cyril?  Perhaps  after  all,  her  sur- 

174 


VON  STROMBERG  CATECHISES 

mises  had  been  incorrect.  They  had  sent  him  away  to 
Berlin.  Or  perhaps  he  had  gone  back  in  freedom  to 
England.  Grave  fears  assailed  her  as  to  Rizzio  and 
his  intentions.  Once  a  friend,  but  after  that  an  un- 
successful lover!  What  did  she  know  of  him  or  of 
these  people  into  whose  hands  he  was  committing  her? 
Germans !  She  was  ready  to  believe  anything  of  them 
after  Belgium — the  worst!  Had  Rizzio's  story  about 
bringing  her  to  the  head  of  the  Secret  Service  of  Ger- 
many been  a  mere  invention  to  serve  other  ends?  He 
had  told  her  at  Kilmorack  House  that  he  would  never 
give  her  up.  Was  this  what  he  had  meant?  A  blind 
terror  seized  her  which  seemed  for  the  moment  to 
deaden  all  her  faculties  for  analysis.  The  room, 
though  chill,  seemed  to  stifle  her,  its  walls  and  ceiling 
to  be  closing  in  to  crush  her.  She  stumbled  to  the  bed 
upon  which  she  fell  and  lay  for  a  long  while  exhausted 
and  at  last  the  blessing  of  tears  came  to  her  and 
then,  sleep. 

How  long  Doris  slept  she  did  not  know,  but  she 
realized  that  it  could  not  have  been  long,  for  strange 
ugly  figures  came  into  her  dreams  and  strange  ugly 
events  followed  each  other  with  lightning  swiftness. 
But  a  knock  upon  the  door  brought  her  back  to  the 
terrors  of  her  predicament  and  she  answered  it,  won- 
dering what  was  to  happen.  It  was  a  tall  man  in  the 
Jager  uniform  bearing  a  tray  of  food — some  toast, 
eggs  and  a  cup  of  chocolate.  He  entered  with  a  smile 
and  a  polite  greeting  in  German,  putting  the  tray  upon 
the  table  and  then  forcing  open  the  shutters  a  little  so 
that  a  narrow  bar  of  sunlight  came  into  the  room  and 
lay  upon  the  bright  drugget  upon  the  floor.  By  its 
light  she  examined  the  man.  He  was  tali,  grizzled  at 
the  temples  and  walked  with  a  slight  limp.  He  smiled 

175 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


at  her  again  and  she  could  not  refrain  from  answering 
the  smile  in  kind. 

"I  hope  the  Fraulein  will  enjoy  her  lunch,"  he  said. 
"The  toast  especially,  for  I  have  made  it  myself.  I 
trust  that  the  Fraulein  prefers  dry  toast." 

"Thanks,  anything  will  do.     I  am  not  hungry. 

"I  am  sorry,"  said  the  Forester,  bowing  and  then 
continuing  in  a  lower  tone:  "The  Fraulein  will  not 
forget  that  the  toast  is  excellent  and  that  I  made  it 
myself." 

She  examined  him  curiously,  wondering  whether  he 
•were  not  perhaps  a  little  demented.  But  at  the  door 
he  bowed  and  disappeared  and  she  heard  the  key  turn 
in  the  lock.  He  was  apparently  not  too  demented  to 
forget  that  she  was  a  prisoner. 

She  was  not  hungry  but  she  knew  that  she  must  eat 
something  to  keep  up  her  strength  for  any  ordeal  that' 
•was  in  store  for  her,  so  she  drew  a  chair  to  the  table 
and  sat,  pouring  out  the  chocolate  in  the  cup  and 
helping  herself  to  the  eggs. 

All  the  while  she  thought  of  the  strange  behavior  of 
her  servitor.  Why  did  he  lay  such  stress  upon  the  ex- 
cellence of  the  dry  toast?  And  why  because  it  was 
dry?  She  raised  a  piece  of  it  with  her  fingers  and 
examined  it,  lifted  the  second  piece,  when  a  gasp  of 
surprise  escaped  her.  Above  the  third  piece  of  toast, 
folded  neatly,  was  a  thin  strip  of  paper.  She  glanced 
toward  the  door  and  window  and  then  getting  up  from 
the  table  and  going  to  a  spot  where  observation  of 
her  actions  was  impossible,  opened  the  slip  of  paper. 
It  was  in  Cyril's  hand. 

Don't  be  frightened  [she  read].     You  are  to  be 
questioned.  Follow  these  instructions.  I  made  copy 
of  message  in  Heathcote  library  night  of  dinner 
176 


while  waiting  for  you  to  get  wraps.  I  hid  it  in  right 
sash  of  motor.  Copy  and  original  of  message  the 
same.  You  and  I  are  enemies.  Therefore  ignore 
me.  Rizzio  acted  for  Scotland  Yard.  As  to  the  rest 
tell  truth  exactly  and  no  harm  can  come  to  me.  I 
will  find  means  later  to  communicate.  Burn  this 
immediately. 

Her  heart  beating  high,  she  read  the  paper  through 
twice  to  familiarize  herself  with  the  instructions  which 
she  perfectly  understood.  Then  she  found  a  match- 
box on  the  candlestick,  put  the  paper  in  the  hearth 
and  burned  it.  After  that  she  sat  at  the  table  and  ate. 
It  was  there  that  Captain  von  Winden  found  her  some 
moments  later  when  he  came  to  request  her  presence 

in  the  room  on  the  ground  floor. 

•  •  •  •  • 

During  the  time  that  Doris  slept,  in  the  living-room 
downstairs  General  von  Stromberg  sat  with  John  Riz- 
zio. A  peaceful  winter  landscape  looked  in  at  the  win- 
dows, the  sun  slanted  in  a  yellow  rhomboid  upon  the 
floor,  a  cheerful  fire  was  burning  upon  the  hearth  and 
General  von  Stromberg,  his  left  hand  tapping  gently 
upon  the  back  of  his  right,  was  gravely  listening  to 
John  Rizzio's  story.  All  of  the  pieces  of  the  little 
game  were  upon  the  board.  He  was  now  about  to  move 
them  skillfully  from  one  square  to  another  until  only 
one  piece  remained,  and  that  one  piece,  the  victor  in 
all  such  games,  was — himself. 

"And  what  was  his  manner,"  went  on  von  Strom- 
berg, "when  you  showed  your  credentials?" 

"He  was  surprised — very  much  surprised — and  I 
think  alarmed." 

"And  what  arguments  did  you  use  to  make  him  give 
the  packet  up?" 

177 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


"I  threatened  him  with  serious  consequences." 

"Which  meant  me,9'  said  von  Stromberg  grimly. 

"Yes,  Excellenz.  But  he  refused  without  other 
grounds  than  his  own  judgment." 

"And  then " 

"Excellenz,  Fraulein  Mather  came  in.  She  heard 
something  from  behind  the  curtain — but  she  gave  no 
sign." 

"Oh!     She  is  clever?" 

"Exceptionally  so.  I  have  brought  her  here  of  my 
own  volition  and  she  will  speak  if  properly  ap- 
proached, but  I  hope  Excellenz  will  be  pleased  to  make 
the  interview  as  easy  for  her  as  possible.  If  any  harm 
should  come  to  her " 

"It  is  not  the  practice  of  my  department  to  do 
hurt  to  women,"  said  the  General  quickly.  Then  he 
laughed.  "I  suspect,  Herr  Rizzio,  that  you  have  a 
tenderness  in  that  quarter." 

"It  is  true.  I  hope,  therefore,  that  you  will  be 
patient  with  her." 

Von  Stromberg  waved  his  hand  impatiently. 

"And  what  happened  then?" 

"Hammer sley  and  Miss  Mather  went  out.  1  re- 
mained in  the  smoking-room  and  then  telephoned  to 
Maxwell  to  send  his  men  at  once.  They  came.  I  met 
them  outside  the  house  before  Hammersley  emerged 
and  gave  them  my  instructions  to  follow  Hammersley's 
machine  and  get  the  papers." 

The  older  man  started  forward,  his  long  acquisitive 
nose  eagerly  scenting  a  clue. 

"And  how  long  was  it  after  they  left  the  smoking- 
room  for  the  machine?" 

Rizzio  pulled  at  his  mustache  a  moment  thought- 
fully. 

178 


VON  STROMEEEG  CATECHISES 

"I  could  not  say  exactly,"  he  said  after  a  time.  "A 
matter  of  half  an  hour  perhaps." 

"Did  you  know  what  Herr  Hammersley  was  doing 
in  the  meanwhile?" 

"No.  I  could  not  say.  I  telephoned  first  and  then 
went  out.  The  guests  were  all  in  the  drawing-room." 

"Did  you  go  up  to  the  library?" 

Rizzio  showed  surprise.     "No,  Excellenz." 

"Are  you  sure  that  Herr  Hammersley  was  in  the 
drawing-room  with  the  others  when  you  went  out  ?" 

"Yes,  Excellenz.  I  am  sure  of  it.  There  was  no 
reason  for  him  to  be  anywhere  else." 

"There  was  no  chance  of  his  going  upstairs  to  the 
library  for  ten — fifteen  minutes — without  your  seeing 
him?" 

Rizzio  straightened  and  pulled  at  his  mustache. 
"Excellenz,  I  think  I  understand  the  object  of  your 
questions.  It  is  not  possible  that  Herr  Hammersley 
could  have  made  a  copy  of  the  papers  at  Lady  Heath- 
cote's  house." 

Von  Stromberg  paused  a  moment,  then  he  asked: 

"How  long  after  you  left  the  door  of  the  house  be- 
fore he  came  out  with  the  lady?" 

"Scarcely  more  than  ten  minutes." 

The  General's  fingers  tapped  more  rapidly. 

"Oh,"  he  growled,  "I  see."  And  then,  "Tell  me  how 
the  matter  was  arranged  that  Captain  Byfield  should 
deliver  those  papers." 

"Maxwell  managed  it  through  a  cipher.  The  War 
Office  had  grown  suspicious  and  all  the  usual  channels 
were  closed.  Byfield  was  frightened  and  refused  to 
deliver  jPurther  messages.  So  Maxwell  hit  upon  the 
scheme  of  the  cigarette  papers  to  be  delivered  to  Ham- 
mersley. I  could  not  receive  them  from  Byfield  be- 

179 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


cause  of  your  instructions  not  to  let  my  interests  be 
known  to  anyone  in  England  but  Maxwell — you 
thought  the  time  was  not  ripe  for  me  to  play  my 
coup" 

"Yes,"  said  von  Stromberg  dryly,  "but  the  time  is 
ripe  now  and  you  are  not  there  to  play  it." 

"But  this  affair  was  of  such  importance 

"Yes,  yes,"  the  general  broke  in  quickly,  "go  on." 

"It  was  the  day  of  an  anniversary  always  celebrated 
for  me  by  Lady  Heathcote,  whose  house,  as  you  know, 
is  one  of  the  most  exclusive  in  England  and  above 
suspicion.  I  invited  the  guests  and  Maxwell  communi- 
cated with  Hammersley,  arranging  the  manner  of  the 
exchange  which  was  accomplished.  My  demand  upon 
Hammersley  was  made  in  accordance  with  your  orders. 
It  was  a  test  of  his  loyalty.  He  failed." 

"Do  you  think  he  had  an  opportunity  to  glance  at 
the  papers,  I  mean  between  the  time  he  received  them 
and  the  time  of  your  demand  of  him?" 

"Yes.  He  studied  them  for  a  moment  behind  the 
curtains  of  an  alcove  in  the  drawing-room.  I  was 
watching.  I  saw  his  shadow  as  he  bent  over  to  the 
light  of  the  lamp." 

"By  that  you  mean  he  had  a  hope  that  they  might 
be  spurious?" 

"Yes,  Excellenz.  When  it  was  discovered  that  there 
•was  a  leak,  false  orders  were  issued  to  test  the  differ- 
ent departments  of  the  War  Office." 

"H — m.  And  then,  Maxwell's  men  followed  him,  and 
when  he  was  on  the  point  of  capture  he  turned  the 
papers  over  to  the  lady,  who  escaped  through  the 
hedge?" 

"As  I  have  said  before,  Excellenz,  the  lady  is  clever. 
She  read  the  papers,  but  her  loyalty  to  Hammersley 

180 


STROMBERG  CATECHISES 


kept  her  silent,  though  at  that  time  she  suspected  that 
he  was  a  German  agent." 

"I  see,"  said  von  Stromberg,  manifesting  a  sudden 
activity  with  his  fingers.  "The  lady  is  interested  in 
Herr  Hammersley?" 

"Yes,  ExceUenz." 

"More  interested  in  him,  perhaps,  than  she  is  in 
you?" 

Rizzio  bowed  in  silence. 

"Gut,"  said  von  Stromberg  rising.  "That  perhaps 
makes  matters  more  amusing  for  us  —  perhaps  a  little 
more  amusing  for  Herr  Hammersley." 

He  paced  the  floor  with  long  strides  while  Rizzio 
watched  him  until  he  stopped  before  the  fire  and  spoke 
again. 

"Herr  Rizzio,  you  have  told  me  about  the  events  in 
Scotland  when,  as  you  say,  Hammersley,  acting  as  an 
Englishman,  warned  the  lady  against  you  as  an  agent 
of  Germany.  What  I  would  like  very  much  to  know  is 
why,  when  you  were  sure  he  was  acting  for  England, 
you  did  not  have  him  killed  at  once." 

"I  tried,  Excellenz,  but  he  was  too  well  prepared  for 
me.  My  men  shot  at  him  on  the  road  and  wounded 
him  slightly  —  but  on  the  cliffs  at  Ben-a-Chielt  he  had 
a  confederate  who  killed  one  of  my  men.  The  other, 
as  I  have  related,  fell  over  the  cliffs." 

"But  you"  —  put  in  the  officer  harshly  —  "what  were 
you  doing  all  the  while?" 

"I  shot  at  him  and  missed." 

"That  was  unfortunate  —  from  our  point  of  view.  It 
is  not  the  custom  of  agents  of  my  department  to  miss 
—  at  anything,  Herr  Rizzio.  But  since  Hammersley 
is  here,  the  damage,  if  damage  there  is,  can  be  re- 
paired. What  did  you  do  after  that?" 

181 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


"I  had  reason  to  suspect  that  Hammersley  was  the 
cause  of  the  arrest  of  Captain  Byfield.  I  had  also  rea- 
son to  suspect  that  he  had  informed,  or  would  inform, 
the  War  Office  as  to  my  connection  with  Germany. 
Accordingly  I  had  made  arrangements  to  have  my  boat 
within  easy  reaching  distance  of  Ben-a-Chielt.  With 
the  help  of  two  other  men  who  had  been  set  to  watch 
the  roads  in  case  of  surprises  I  kept  watch  on  Ham- 
mersley. Miss  Mather  we  lost  in  the  darkness  of  the 
moor.  This  was  unfortunate,  as  I  had  planned  to  take 
her,  too.  But  we  followed  Hammersley  on  horses  to 
Rudha  Mor  to  be  sure  that  he  would  obey  your  sum- 
mons and  fortune  aided  us,  for  Doris  Mather  had  fol- 
lowed him,  too,  and  we  managed  to  take  her  without 
difficulty — and  brought  her  aboard  the  yacht.  Ham- 
mersley's  departure  for  Germany,  of  course,  relieved 
me  of  all  responsibility  on  his  behalf." 

Von  Stromberg  paused  before  the  fireplace,  his  brows 
puckering. 

"On  the  whole,  Herr  Rizzio,  you  have  done  well. 
I  shall  not  complain.  But  if  your  story  is  true,  I  should 
like  you  to  tell  me  two  things.  The  first  is,  why 
should  Herr  Hammersley  return  to  Germany  to  face 
certain  death  at  my  hands?" 

Rizzio  shrugged  his  fine  shoulders. 

"Excellenz,  I  do  not  know.  I  did  not  think  he 
would  come  when  I  sent  you  my  request  to  summon 
him.  The  knowledge  he  possessed  was  dangerous  to 
me  and  I  had  made  every  possible  plan  to  kill  him  at 
Rudha  Mor.  Nothing  that  could  have  happened  sur- 
prised me  more  than  when  I  saw  him  fly  out  in  obedi- 
ence to  your  message.  It  has  puzzled  me.  I  do  not 
know  why  he  came  unless  it  was  to  learn  something  in 
Germany  and  return  to  England." 

182 


VON  STROMBERG  CATECHISES 

Von  Stromberg  gave  a  dry  chuckle. 

"The  supposition  does  not  flatter  his  intelligence  or 
mine.  Aside  from  the  difficulties  of  his  position  at 
present,  if  he  were  seeking  information  as  to  the  plans 
of  the  Empire,  he  would  have  about  as  much  chance  of 
getting  away  from  here  alive  as  you  would  have,  Herr 
Rizzio,  in  the  same  circumstances." 

The  old  man  towered  to  his  full  height  and  brought 
his  huge  fist  down  with  a  crash  upon  the  table  which 
startled  Rizzio,  who  fingered  his  mustache,  his  face 
a  shade  paler. 

"I  am  glad,  Excellenz,"  he  said  with  a  laugh,  "that 
I  am  not  in  Hammersley's  shoes." 

Disregarding  Rizzio's  comment,  the  old  man  paced 
the  floor  again,  storming. 

"The  other  question  that  I  would  like  to  ask  you  is, 
what  has  become  of  Herr  Maxwell?" 

Rizzio  started  up,  now  in  genuine  concern. 

"Have  you  not  heard  from  him,  Excellenz?" 

"No,"  roared  the  other.  "Why  haven't  I?  You 
should  know." 

"I  do  not  know.  I  saw  him  the  day  I  left  London 
for  Scotland.  He  was  fully  informed  of  all  that  had 
happened.  Could  it  be  that " 

Rizzio  paused  with  a  deep  frown. 

"Where  is  he?  Why  has  he  not  reported?  Could 
anything  have  happened  to  him?  What  were  you 
thinking?" 

"That  Hammersley  perhaps — but  that  could  hardly 
be — since  he  always  moved  under  cover 

"Du  lieber  Jesu!     Speak  out!    Will  you?" 

"I  thought  that  Hammersley  might  have  been  the 
cause  of  his  arrest." 

"Oh,  you  think  that?    Why?" 
183 


THE  YELLOW  DOFE 


"Because  it  was  Hammersley  who  told  the  War  Of- 
fice of  Byfield " 

"What  proof  have  you  of  that?" 

"No  one  knew  of  Byfield's  connection  with  us  but 
Hammersley,  Maxwell  and  myself." 

"Those  were  my  orders.  How  do  I  know  that  they 
were  obeyed?" 

"One  doesn't  disobey  orders,  Excellenz,  with  one's 
head  in  a  noose." 

"H — m.  There  are  many  necks  in  nooses  at  Win- 
denberg.  And  one  of  the  nooses  will  be  tightened." 

He  had  stopped  before  Rizzio  and  was  scowling  at 
him  with  eyes  that  shot  malevolence.  Rizzio  knew 
something  of  von  Stromberg's  methods  and  was  sure 
that  he  was  merely  trying  to  intimidate  him,  to  reduce 
him  to  a  consistency  which  would  reveal  hidden  weak- 
nesses in  texture;  yet,  knowing  this,  Rizzio  felt  most 
uncomfortable.  He  twirled  his  mustache  and  looked 
out  of  the  window,  but  his  glance  came  back  to  von 
Stromberg's  eyes,  which  never  wavered  or  changed  in 
intensity,  as  though  under  the  influence  of  some  strange 
hypnotic  attraction. 

"You  know,  of  course,"  the  old  man's  harsh  voice 
snapped  at  him,  "what  Herr  Hammersley  accuses  you 
of?" 

"I  can  imagine,  Excellenz." 

"He  says  that  you  have  been  acting  for  the  English 
Government." 

Rizzio  started  up  in  alarm. 

"You  do  not  for  a  moment  believe ' 

"Don't  get  excited.  I  believe  nothing — which  I  do 
not  wish  to  believe.  But  he  tells  a  very  pretty  story, 
Herr  Rizzio." 

"He  would,"  said  Rizzio  easily.  "I  will  do  him  the 
184 


VON  STROMBERG  CATECHISES 

credit  of  saying  that  he  is  skillful.     But  a  lie  will  dis- 
cover itself  in  the  end." 

"Exactly.  I  am  glad  you  agree  with  me.  What  I 
now  propose  to  do  is  to  set  the  lie  in  motion.  The 
easiest  way  to  provoke  a  liar  is  to  put  him  upon  the 
defensive.  You  and  Hammersley  shall  debate  the  mat- 
ter. I  shall  be  the  judge  of  the  debate.  We  shall  see 
what  we  shall  see." 

He  strode  to  the  table  and  was  about  to  touch  the 
bell  when  Kizzio  broke  in. 

"One  moment,  Excellenz.  I  should  like  to  know  on 
what  he  bases  his  accusation." 

"Humph!     Not  weakening,  Rizzio?" 

"Hardly,  Excellenz,"  the  other  smiled.  "It  will  not 
be  difficult  for  me  to  verify  my  statements  if  Ham- 
mersley will  only  talk." 

"You  need  not  fear.     He  will  talk." 

"What  I  wanted  to  know,  Excellenz,  was  the  nature 
of  the  information  received  in  the  yellow  packet. 
Would  you  permit ?" 

"Not  yet,  Herr  Rizzio,  not  yet.  The  contents  of 
the  message  will  come  in  time.  For  the  present  there 
is  quite  enough  to  occupy  Herr  Hammersley's  mind — 
and  yours." 

Rizzio  shrugged.  "As  you  please.  I  would  like  to 
know,  however,  before  you  summon  him,  whether  his 
accusation  is  based  on  my  attempt  upon  his  life." 

Von  Stromberg  chuckled.  "Is  not  that  enough  to 
prejudice  a  man — if  he  were  honest?" 

"Yes,  if  he  were  honest,"  said  Rizzio.  "Did  he  have 
any  authority  for  his  belief?" 

"Yes,  Herr  Rizzio,"  said  the  General,  fixing  Rizzio 
with  his  stare.  "He  told  me  that  Maxwell  had  learned 
it  from  Byfield." 

13  185 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


"Byfield!"  Rizzio  started  forward  quickly.  "Ham- 
mersley  is  a  fool.  Have  I  not  told  Excellenz  that 
Byfield  knew  nothing  whatever  of  my  connection  with 
the  affair?" 

Von  Stromberg  stretched  his  long  arms  impatiently. 

"Herr  Maxwell,  unfortunately,  is  silent.  Captain 
Byfield  is  in  a  position  where  the  only  questions  that 
can  be  put  to  him  will  be  those  at  the  Gates  of  Heaven 
by  his  Maker." 

He  gave  the  bell  on  the  table  a  resounding  blow  and 
grinned  mischieviously  at  Rizzio. 

"You  say  that  Herr  Hammersley  is  a  fool.  He 
asserts  that  you  are  one.  I  shall  now  smoke  a  cigar 
and  decide  for  myself  which  of  you  is  correct." 

And,  as  the  soldier  entered,  "Tell  Herr  Hammersley 
that  I  wish  to  see  him  here  at  once." 

"I  can  only  say,  Excellenz,"  said  Rizzio,  when  the 
man  went  out,  "that  I  am  willing  to  abide  by  your 
verdict." 

"Even  though  it  should  be  unfavorable  to  your- 
self?" growled  von  Stromberg. 

"That,  Excellenz,  is  quite  impossible." 

*'I  have  known  stranger  things  to  happen.  The 
worst  aspect  of  your  case  is  that  Herr  Hammersley  is 
here.  There  was  no  need  for  him  to  come.  You 
yourself  admit  that.  He  had  only  to  stay  in  England 
;o  devote  his  talents  to  a  more  congenial  occupation." 
Von  Stromberg  puffed  on  his  cigar  and  leaned  across 
the  table.  "Can  you  tell  me  why  Herr  Hammersley 
came  to  Germany?  Answer  me  correctly,  Rizzio,  and 
I  will  give  you  every  masterpiece  in  Belgium." 

Rizzio  frowned  into  the  fire. 

"I  cannot  say,"  he  replied.  "I  have  admitted  that 
he  has  puzzled  me.  I  can  only  think  of  one  thing. 

186 


VON  STROMBERG  CATECHISES 

Hammersley  is  a  type  of  man  who  under  the  guise  of 
inefficiency  does  all  things  well.  He  is  a  sportsman. 
He  would  do  such  a  thing  for  the  love  of  adventure, 
because  the  danger,  the  excitement,  appealed  to  him — 
because  it  was  the  'sporting  thing.' ' 

"A  reason,  Rizzio,"  muttered  von  Stromberg,  "but 
not  the  real  reason." 

Rizzio  started  and  a  smile  broke  at  the  corners  of 
his  lips. 

"Oh !  You  realize,  then,  that  there  is  something  else 
^ — something ?"  He  paused. 

"I  realize  nothing,"  growled  the  General.  "Realiza- 
tion, Rizzio,  is  the  one  banality  of  existence!  Uncer- 
tainty is  the  only  thing  worth  while.  When  one  is  cer- 
tain of  anything  it  ceases  to  be  interesting.  That  is 
why  Herr  Hammersley,  whom  you  call  a  fool  in  one 
breath  and  a  genius  in  the  next,  excites  my  profound 
attention.  Come,  I  think  you  will  agree  with  me  that 
he  is  worth  it." 

"I  do  not  like  Hammersley,  Excellenz." 

"Naturlich!  But  that  need  not  prevent  your  inter- 
est in  him,  even  though  your  interest  is  largely  in  his 
death." 

The  phrase  was  significant,  delivered  significantly, 
and  in  spite  of  himself  Rizzio  felt  the  gaze  of  the  Gen- 
eral piercing  his  veneer. 

"I  could  feel  no  happiness  in  such  a  misfortune,"  $ 
he  said  gravely,  "notwithstanding  my  dislike  of  him." 

A  knock  at  the  door  interrupted  further  conversa- 
tion and,  at  a  command  from  the  General,  Hammers- 
ley  entered. 


CHAPTER    XV 

THE   INQUISITION 

IF  General  von  Stromberg  had  counted  upon  play- 
ing a  trump  card  in  producing  Rizzio  at  this 
interview,  Herr  Hammersley's  demeanor  must 
have  disappointed  him.  For  he  entered  the  room  with 
cheerful  composure,  noted  Rizzio,  stared  at  him  in  sud- 
den seriousness,  and  then  turned  to  von  Stromberg  with 
the  air  of  a  man  briskly  intent. 

"You  wanted  to  see  me,  Excellenz  ?"  he  asked  quietly. 

He  had  evinced  a  mild  surprise  at  Rizzio's  presence, 
but  no  discomposure.  If  anything,  his  manner  now 
had  a  kind  of  sober  eagerness  as  at  the  imminence  of 
an  issue  in  which  a  necessary  if  painful  duty  must  be 
performed. 

General  von  Stromberg  from  his  armchair  regarded 
him  through  a  cloud  of  tobacco  smoke. 

"Yes,  Herr  Hammersley,"  said  von  Stromberg.  "As 
you  will  observe,  Herr  Rizzio  has  just  arrived  from 
England.  He  followed  you  almost  immediately  upon 
his  yacht.  It  is  most  fortunate  that  he  is  here,  for 
there  are  several  matters  which  we  can  discuss  in  pri- 
vacy together." 

"I  am  at  your  service,  Excellenz,"  said  Hammersley. 
"If  there  are  any  facts  which  I  can  add  to  my  report 
I  shall  be  glad." 

His  idiom  was  Hanoverian.  Rizzio,  quite  cool,  faced 
him,  upright,  with  folded  arms. 

"To  begin  with,  meme  Herren,  we  will  sit.  To  stand 
188 


THE  INQUISITION 


is  the  attitude  of  discomposure.  One  thinks  more 
calmly  sitting  down.  You  have  my  permission.  So — 
Now  we  will  proceed.  I  will  outline  in  the  briefest 
words  the  situation.  Herr  Hammersley,  an  agent  of 
the  Secret  Service  Department  of  the  Imperial  Gov- 
ernment, is  intrusted  with  the  receipt  and  delivery  of 
certain  secret  messages.  He  receives  them,  but  is  re- 
quested by  Herr  Rizzio,  also  an  agent  of  the  Secret 
Service  Department  of  the  Imperial  Government,  on 
authority  of  indubitable  credentials,  to  relinquish  the 
message  to  Herr  Rizzio.  It  is  not  necessary  to  state 
the  reasons  of  the  Imperial  Secret  Service  Department 
in  desiring  the  transfer  of  this  message.  It  is  suffi- 
cient that  Herr  Hammersley  refused  to  obey  the  or- 
ders. He  has  given  explanations  which,  on  their  face, 
seem  adequate.  Upon  the  side  of  Herr  Rizzio  it  may 
be  said  that,  failing  in  his  object,  he  came  to  a  certain 
conclusion  most  unflattering  to  the  loyalty  of  Herr 
Hammersley.  We  will  now  proceed  in  orderly  fashion 
to  hear  the  cause  of  Herr  Hammersley's  refusal  and 
the  subsequent  acts  of  Herr  Rizzio  which  have  creat- 
ed so  great  a  misunderstanding.  Herr  Hammersley, 
bitte,  you  will  tell  us  the  facts  as  you  have  related 
them." 

"I  learned  from  Herr  Maxwell  that  Herr  Rizzio 
was  playing  a  double  game.  Captain  Byfield  had  fur- 
nished him  with  full  proofs  of  it,  one  of  which  was  a 
letter  he  had  seen  from  Herr  Rizzio  to  a  military  offi- 
cer high  in  the  councils  of  the  War  Office.  This  was 
an  additional  reason,  Excellenz,  why  Herr  Maxwell 
arranged  with  Captain  Byfield  that  the  cigarette  pa- 
pers should  be  delivered  to  me." 

Rizzio  leaned  quickly  forward,  his  face  dark  with 
passion.  "Excellenz,"  he  began,  "that  could  not  possi- 

189 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


bly  be  true.  The  real  reason  for  the  delivery  of  the 
message  to  Herr  Hammersley  Excellenz  well  knows. 
And  Herr  Maxwell  would  hardly  send  men  to  follow 
Herr  Hammersley  at  my  request  if  he  disbelieved  in  my 
loyalty." 

"Quite  so.  He  would  not  and  did  not,"  said  Ham- 
mersley. "The  men  were  not  Herr  Maxwell's.  They 
were  men  of  Scotland  Yard.  It  is  quite  obvious  by 
the  way  they  bungled  matters." 

The  General  smiled  delightedly.  It  was  the  sort  of 
joke  he  liked.  "That  is  one  point  in  your  favor,  Ham- 
mersley." 

Rizzio  shrugged. 

"Excellenz  well  knows,"  he  said,  "why  those  men 
were  sent.  They  had  instructions  to  get  the  papers 
for  Maxwell." 

"That  is  strange,"  said  Hammersley.  "If  Maxwell 
had  asked  me  personally  for  the  papers,  I  should  have 
given  them  to  him.  Maxwell  would  have  known  better 
than  to  intrust  those  papers  to  a  third  person.  It  is 
not  likely  that  I  should  have  given  them  up  to  any 
man,  even  if  Maxwell  had  sent  him." 

"It  is  unfortunate  that  Herr  Maxwell  is  not  here 
to " 

"One  moment,  Herr  Rizzio,"  broke  in  the  General. 
Then  to  Hammersley,  "What  was  the  nature  of  the 
letter  which  you  say  was  sent  by  Herr  Rizzio  to  a 
high  official  of  the  War  Office?" 

"It  was  a  statement  in  regard  to  the  case  of  Carl 
Hiiber,  who,  as  you  know,  was  shot  last  week  in  the 
Tower  of  London." 

"Ach!"  Von  Stromberg  frowned.  "We  are  killing 
our  evidence  too  fast,  mem  herr,  a  little  too  fast  for 
convenience.  Bitte,  we  will  kill  no  more  German  agents 

190 


in  the  Tower  until  they  have  had  an  opportunity  to 
testify." 

Hammersley  smiled. 

"Unfortunately,  Excellenz,  I  have  no  means  of  re- 
storing him  to  life,"  he  said.  "He  was  an  excellent 
man,  and  leaves,  I  believe,  a  wife  and  six  children." 

Von  Stromberg  tapped  his  fingers  slowly. 

"We  will  go  on,  if  you  please,  with  the  discussion  of 
the  general  facts.  You  claim  that  Herr  Maxwell,  dis- 
trusting Rizzio,  arranged  that  the  papers  should  be 
handed  from  Captain  Byfield  to  you.  I  have  told  you 
that  Maxwell  had  orders  from  me  to  put  you  to  this 
test?" 

"Pardon,  Excellenz.  I  did  not  know  that  at  the 
time.  I  only  know  that  Herr  Maxwell  chose  to  disre- 
gard your  orders  to  him  and  Rizzio,  instructing  me 
not  to  deliver  the  papers  to  Rizzio  under  any  circum- 
stances." 

"When  did  Herr  Maxwell  make  the  discovery  of 
Herr  Rizzio' s — er — treachery?" 

"It  was  the  evening  of  Lady  Heathcote's  dinner. 
Captain  Byfield  had  learned  the  truth  that  afternoon." 

"One  moment!"  Rizzio  rose,  his  face  pale  with  an- 
ger. "It  is  easy  to  manufacture  evidence  of  this  kind, 
where  both  of  the  witnesses  mentioned  are  beyond 
reach.  I  will  not  even  deny  the  truth  of  their  charges. 
They  are  too  absurd.  If  I  was  acting  for  England.  / 
will  Herr  Hammersley  tell  me  why  the  agents  of  Scot- 
land Yard,  whom  he  says  I  sent  for,  did  not  surround 
the  house  at  Ashwater  Park  and  boldly  demand  the 
papers  from  Miss  Mather,  in  the  name  of  the  Govern- 
ment and  the  law?" 

"The  reasons  are  obvious,"  replied  Hammersley.  "I 
will  give  Herr  Rizzio  the  credit  for  that  much  delicacy. 

191 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


If  his  men  had  found  the  papers  at  Ashwater  Park, 
Fraulein  Mather,  whom  Herr  Rizzio  esteems  most 
highly  and  who  was  quite  innocent,  would  have  even- 
tually been  imprisoned  by  the  Government  as  a  spy. 
At  his  orders  the  house  was  therefore  secretly  searched 
by  night,  I  am  happy  to  say,  unsuccessfully.  Herr 
Rizzio  will  surely  not~deny  the  kindness  of  his  motives 
upon  that  occasion?" 

"Excellenz  will  take  that  reply  for  what  it  is  worth. 
Scotland  Yard  has  never  permitted  sentimental  con- 
siderations to  interfere  with  the  performance  of  its 
duties." 

Hammersley  went  on  stolidly:  "I  cannot  conceive 
of  any  agents  of  Germany  attempting  to  kill  me.  This 
my  pursuers  did  at  Saltham  Rocks  and  again  in  the 
person  of  Rizzio  himself  on  the  cliffs  at  Beaufort  Head 
— even,  Excellenz" — Hammersley  leaned  forward,  smil- 
ing blandly — "even  after  he  knew  that  I  had  met  Cap- 
tain Stammer  and  conveyed  my  acceptance  of  Excel- 
lenz's  invitation  to  return  to  Germany." 

"I  was  not  sure  that  he  would  go." 

"If  not  for  any  other  reasons,  Excellenz,  the  pursuit 
of  the  agents  of  Scotland  Yard  would  have  been  suffi- 
cient. Fortunately,  however,  I  had  intended  going  as 
the  bearer  of  the  Byfield  message.  And  I  carried  it. 
You  can't  deny  that." 

i  "He  brought  a  message,  Excellenz,"  put  in  Rizzio 
quickly.  "But  what  message?  There  were  two  mes- 
sages. One  prepared  by  Captain  Byfield — the  other 
prepared  by  Hammersley." 

"I  do  not  deny  that.  When  I  discovered  that  I  was 
likely  to  have  an  interesting  evening  I  made  a  copy 
of  the  papers  in  a  package  of  Riz-la-Croix  which  I 

had  in  my " 

19S 


THE  INQUISITION 


Rizzio  broke  in  quickly.  "That  copy  was  made  not 
at  Lady  Heathcote's  that  night,  but  at  the  War  Office 
or  elsewhere  the  following  day.  It  was  prepared  for 
the  emergency  of  capture  and,  escaping  that,  for  de- 
livery to  General  von  Stromberg." 

"General  von  Stromberg  has  been  told  about  those 
papers.  I  have  told  him  where  and  when  I  made  the 
copy." 

"And  where  was  that?"  asked  Rizzio  keenly. 

"In  the  library  at  Lady  Heathcote's  while  you  were 
telephoning  to  Scotland  Yard." 

Rizzio  struggled  for  control,  and  then  with  dignity 
to  von  Stromberg,  "I  was  telephoning  to  Herr  Max- 
well, Excellenz."  He  turned  to  Hammersley  with  a 
confident  smile.  "Assuming  for  the  moment  that  what 
you  say  about  copying  the  papers  is  true,  what  did 
you  do  with  the  copy?" 

"I  took  it  out  to  the  motor,  where  I  slipped  it  down 
the  window  sash,"  Hammersley  laughed.  "Surely,  Riz- 
zio, the  tall  man  from  Scotland  Yard  must  have  told 
you  that  when  I  escaped  I  shouted  to  him  that  he  had 
not  searched  the  motor." 

General  von  Stromberg  broke  in  suddenly. 

"Why  did  you  say  that?" 

Hammersley  shrugged.  "I  had  injured  their  motor, 
and  I  knew  that  I  should  escape.  The  bravado  of  tri- 
umph, Excellenz.  I  was  rather  happy,  for,  as  a  fact, 
they  had  given  me  an  uncomfortable  evening." 

Rizzio  leaned  across  the  table. 

"Excellenz,  it  was  to  draw  attention  from  the  girl, 
who  had  the  original  message  and  who  had  concealed 
herself  in  a  tree." 

General  von  Stromberg  took  a  small  object  from  his 
pocket  and  weighed  it  lightly  in  the  fingers  of  one 

193 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


hand.  It  was  the  package  of  Riz-la-Croix.  As  Ham- 
mersley  was  about  to  speak,  he  held  up  the  other  hand 
in  demand  for  silence. 

"We  are  not  getting  very  far,  meme  Herren"  he 
said.  "Both  of  you  tell  excellent  stories  of  your  ad- 
ventures worthy  of  the  best  traditions  of  the  Secrei 
Service  Department.  If,  as  Herr  Rizzio  alleges,  Herr 
Hammersley  has  substituted  other  papers  for  the  orig- 
inal ones  burned  by  Miss  Doris  Mather,  Herr  Ham- 
mersley will  be  shot.  If,  as  Herr  Hammersley  alleges, 
Herr  Rizzio  was  in  communication  with  Scotland  Yard, 
the  officers  of  which  attempted  the  life  of  Herr  Ham- 
mersley while  he  bore  dispatches  for  me,  Herr  Rizzio 
will  be  shot.  It  is  a  very  delicate  matter,  meine  Her- 
ren,  one  which  will  require  much  thought,  since  the 
one  man  who  could  settle  the  question  is  in  an  English 
prison." 

Hammersley  started  a  pace  forward.  "Oh,  then  he 
is  taken!" 

Rizzio  glanced  quickly  at  Hammersley. 

"Excellenz,  the  same  person  who  caused  the  arrest 
of  Captain  Byfield  gave  Maxwell  to  the  police." 

Von  Stromberg's  gaze  followed  Rizzio's  to  Ham- 
mersley. 

"And  you,  Herr  Hammersley.  What  do  you  sug- 
gest?" 

"If  the  report  is  true,  Excellenz,  I  quite  agree  witl 
Herr  Rizzio,"  he  said  easily. 

Von  Stromberg  showed  his  teeth  in  a  wolfish  smile. 

"And  each  of  you  contends  that  it  was  the  other, 
rticlit  wahr?" 

Hammersley  merely  nodded,  but  Rizzio  was  by  this 
time  in  a  state  which  made  self-control  an  impossi- 
bility. "Excellenz,"  he  cried  hotly,  "is  it  conceivable 


THE  INQUISITION 


that  I  should  have  come  to  Germany  if  I  had  been 
guilty  of  the  crime  of  which  this  man  accuses  me?  I 
have  served  Germany  against " 

"You  forget,  Herr  Rizzio,"  said  the  General  blandly, 
"that  Herr  Hammersley  has  also  come  to  Germany." 

"And  while  he  is  here  Germany  is  in  danger.  He  is 
a  spy  of  England,  Excellenz." 

Hammersley  only  laughed. 

"If  I  had  been  a  spy  of  England,  Excellenz,  I  surely 
had  many  chances  to  serve  England's  cause.  Why 
should  I  have  even  met  Captain  Stammer  at  Beaufort 
Cove?  It  would  have  been  quite  easy  to  have  informed 
the  artillery  officer  at  Innerwick  and  blown  his  de- 
stroyer out  of  the  water  while  she  lay  at  anchor? 
Herr  Rizzio  forgets  that  honesty  is  always  provided 
with  proof.  In  reply  to  this  accusation,  I  would  ask 
Herr  Rizzio  how  he  managed  to  pass  through  the  cor- 
don of  British  destroyers  which  guard  the  coast?" 

Rizzio  hesitated  and  von  Stromberg  spoke. 

"That  is  a  fair  question.     Answer." 

"I  had  English  papers  as  well  as  German.  I  came 
away  before  the  War  Office  had  time  to  act  upon  Herr 
Hammersley's  information  as  to  my  services  to  Ger- 
many." 

Hammersley  shrugged.     "I  make  no  reply." 

Von  Stromberg  frowned  at  the  opposite  wall,  snap- 
ping the  papers  of  the  package  in  his  fingers  impa- 
tiently. 

"An  Impasse!  I  suspected  as  much.  We  will  now 
resort  to  other  means.  The  only  possible  solution  of 
this  case,  barring  the  unpleasant  alternative  of  shoot- 
ing both  of  you  gentlemen  in  the  garden  this  afternoon 
lies  in  the  nature  of  the  dispatches  themselves  and  in 
the  production  of  a  material  witness." 

195 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


He  brought  his  broad  palm  down  on  the  bell  upon 
the  table  and  said  to  Captain  von  Winden,  who  an- 
swered it: 

"You  will  bring  Fraulein  Doris  Mather  down  to 
this  room  at  once."  As  Captain  von  Winden  went 
out,  the  eyes  of  both  men  were  turned  to  Hammers- 
ley.  He  started  in  surprise,  and  leaned  forwarid 
toward  von  Stromberg,  slowly  turning  with  a  frown  to 
Rizzio. 

"Doris — Miss  Mather — here!"  he  muttered.  "She 
came — with — with  Herr  Rizzio?" 

Von  Stromberg  nodded. 

"Herr  Rizzio  persuaded  her  to  come  with  him." 

"Persuaded!  It  is  impossible."  He  rose  and  took 
a  pace  toward  Rizzio.  "What  could  have  been  his 
object?  I  do  not  understand.  It  will  be  very  cruel  for 
her  to — to  see  me — since  she  knows  that  I  am  an  enemy 
of  England,  Excellenz.  She  it  was  who  read  the  pa- 
pers and  burned  them.  If  Herr  Rizzio  supposes  that 

Fraulein  Mather's  evidence  will "  He  paused,  his 

brow  knitting  in  thought. 

"Her  evidence  is  important,"  said  von  Stromberg. 
"Under  the  circumstances  you  should  be  glad  to  have 
such  an  enemy  to  testify  against  you.  Sit  down,  Herr 
Hammersley.  I  regret  that  the  necessities  of  the  case 
require  this  witness." 

Hammersley  sat  and,  frowning  at  the  wall  opposite, 
folded  his  arms.  "I  am  at  your  orders,  Excellenz.  I 
need  not  remind  you  that  she  will  tell  the  truth." 

"That,"  said  von  Stromberg,  with  a  wide  wave  of 
the  hand,  "is  precisely  what  we  are  here  for." 

There  was  a  silence,  grim  and  amusing  on  von 
Stromberg's  part,  self-restrained  on  Rizzio's.  Ham- 
mersley still  sat  staring  at  the  wall,  thoughtful  and 

196 


THE  INQUISITION 


apparently  in  no  great  enjoyment   o£   the   prospect. 

When  the  door  opened  and  Doris  Mather  entered 
the  three  men  rose.  Her  face  was  pale  and  lines  of 
care  were  at  her  eyes  and  lips,  but  there  was  no  deny- 
ing the  proud  poise  of  her  head,  the  firmness  of  her 
mouth  and  the  steady  look  from  her  eyes  as  her  glance 
passed  Rizzio  and  Hammersley  and  sought  the  figure 
of  the  man  in  uniform.  She  measured  him  with  a  look 
that  neglected  nothing,  her  gaze  finally  meeting  the 
dark  shadow  under  the  gray  thatch  of  brows  where  his 
small  eyes  gleamed  at  her.  The  General  bowed,  clicked 
his  heels  together  and  brought  forward  a  chair,  which 
he  indicated  with  a  polite  gesture. 

"I  offer  apologies,  Fraulein,  for  the  unfortunate 
situation  in  which  Destiny  has  placed  you,"  he  said 
in  excellent  English.  "Will  you  be  seated?" 

The  girl  sat  and  faced  him,  her  gaze  still  fixed  upon 
his  face.  It  was  as  though  she  meant  to  ignore  the 
presence  of  the  other  two  men.  General  von  Strom- 
berg  stared  at  her  for  a  moment  in  silence,  and  then, 
finding  that  his  frown  was  only  met  by  a  look  of  calm 
inquiry,  smiled  at  her  instead. 

"You  know,  of  course,  Fraulein,  the  situation  with 
which  you  are  confronted.  Herr  Rizzio  has  brought 
you  to  Germany  to  shed  what  light  you  can  upon  the 
mystery  of  these  cigarette  papers.  Herr  Hammers- 
ley  says  that  Herr  Rizzio  has  been  acting  as  an  agent 
of  the  English  Government  while  professedly  in  the 
service  of  Germany.  Herr  Rizzio  says  that  Herr 
Hammersley  is  an  English  spy.  Your  position  is  a 
difficult  one,  but  circumstances  have  woven  you  into 
a  piece  of  international  politics.  Your  testimony  is 
of  the  utmost  importance — to  one — perhaps  both  of 
these  gentlemen." 

197 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


"I — I  will  do  what  I  can  to  enlighten  you,"  she  said 
haltingly.  "What  do  you  wish  to  know?" 

General  von  Stromberg  beamed  on  her. 

"Achy  I  am  glad  you  take  the  sensible  view  of 
things.'*  He  waved  the  package  of  cigarette  papers 
in  his  fingers.  "You  have  seen  this  object  before?" 

"Yes,  I  think  so.     Will  you  let  me  look  at  it?" 

The  General  moved  his  chair  closer  and  put  the 
papers  in  her  fingers.  She  opened  the  papers  and 
finding  the  message,  scanned  it  closely,  reading  the 
writing  with  deliberateness  and  then  looking  up  into 
von  Stromberg's  face. 

"You  have  seen  this  before?" 

"Yes." 

"Where?" 

"At  Lady  Heathcote's  house  in  Scotland." 

"How  did  it  come  into  your  hands?" 

"I  found  it  on  the  floor  of  Mr.  Hammersley's  room." 

"The  night  Herr  Rizzio  entered  it,  thinking  it  was 
jours  ?" 

"Yes.     That  was  the  time." 

"You  are  quite  sure?" 

"Quite." 

"How  did  you  identify  it?" 

"By  certain  peculiar  characteristics  of  the  hand- 
writing, with  which  I  am  familiar." 

"Mr.  Hammersley's,  is  it  not?" 

"Yes." 

"And  how  did  this  package  of  papers  go  out  of 
your  possession?" 

"Mr. — Mr.  Hammersley  took  them  from  me." 

"By  force?" 

She  raised  her  chin  proudly  and  looked  at  her  ques- 
tioner and  then  lowered  her  eyes,  replying  quietly: 

198 


THE  INQUISITION 


"Yes." 

"There  was  another  package  of  cigarette  papers  of 
the  same  make  as  these?" 

"There  was." 

"You  read  them?" 

"I  did." 

"Was  this  before  or  after  you  found  the  second 
package — these  which  I  now  have  in  my  hand?" 

"Before." 

"How  long  before?" 

"It  was  the  night  of  Lady  Heathcote's  dinner  in 
London — the  night  Mr.  Hammersley  took  me  home  in 
the  machine." 

"The  night  you  were  followed  by  men  in  another 
machine?" 

"Yes." 

"You  escaped  to  Ashwater  Park  with  the  package 
of  papers  which  Herr  Hammersley  had  given  you  and, 
after  hiding  in  a  tree,  in  the  privacy  of  your  room 
read  these  papers?" 

"I  did." 

"Were  the  contents  of  the  papers  you  read  at  Ash- 
water  Park  the  same  as  those  you  hold  in  your  hand?" 

"As  nearly  as  I  can  remember,  they  were,  exactly." 

"Word  for  word?" 

"I  cannot  say  that.  There  were  certain  names  and 
certain  figures  that  I  remember  very  clearly  as  being 

exactly  the  same,     I — I "  she  hesitated.     "There 

were  reasons  why,  in  the  state  of  mind  that  I  was  in, 
what  I  saw  remained  impressed  upon  my  memory." 

Hammersley  throughout  had  sat  immovable.  But 
Rizzio,  who  had  shown  signs  of  anxiety,  now  inter- 
rupted. 

"Excellenz,  I  beg " 

199 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


Von  Stromberg  silenced  him  with  a  gesture. 

"If  you  will  be  pleased  to  continue,  Fraulein.  Do 
you  remember  the  numerals?" 

"Some  of  them." 

"And  the  towns  and  dates?" 

"Some  of  them." 

"And  are  they,  the  ones  that  you  remember,  identical 
in  both  packets?" 

"As  far  as  I  can  remember." 

Von  Stromberg  took  the  packet  from  her  hands  and 
turned  it  over  in  his  fingers. 

"There  is  nothing  about  this  packet,  no  distinguish- 
ing mark  that  would  make  it  different  from  the  other., 
the  one  that  was  burned?" 

"None,  except  the  handwriting." 

"H-m."  General  von  Stromberg  put  the  packet  into 
an  inside  pocket  and  buttoned  his  coat  carefully. 

"So  far — so  good.  You  are  an  intelligent  witness, 
Fraulein." 

"Thank  you."  If  the  words  of  her  questioner  con- 
tained an  ulterior  suggestion,  the  girl  gave  every  in- 
dication of  being  oblivious  to  it,  listening  with  a  grave 
calmness  to  his  next  question. 

"When  you  escaped  into  the  tree,  were  you  in  a 
position  to  hear  what  went  on  in  the  road?" 

"I  was." 

"The  men  in  the  road  searched  Herr  Hammersley?'; 

"They  did." 

"And  at  last  he  escaped?" 

"Yes." 

"Do  you  remember  hearing  him  shout  anything  as 
his  motor  moved  away?" 

"Yes." 

"What  was  it?" 

200 


"That  they  hadn't  searched  the  machine  or  words 
to  that  effect." 

Von  Stromberg  glanced  at  Rizzio,  who  was  lean- 
ing forward  in  his  chair,  eager  to  speak. 

"Well,  Herr  Rizzio?"  he  asked. 

"That  was  a  diversion — intended  to  give  Miss 
Mather  more  time  in  which  to  escape.  The  second 
package  was  not  in  the  motor.  At  that  time  there  was 
no  second  package." 

Doris  Mather's  voice  was  raised  just  a  trifle,  but  for 
the  moment  it  dominated. 

"There  was.  Mr.  Hammersley  put  it  into  the  win-* 
dow  sash,  when  he  was  in  danger  of  capture." 

"Then  why  didn't  he  put  them  both  there?" 

"I  suppose  because  he  wanted  to  be  sure  that  one 
of  them  would  reach  its  destination." 

Von  Stromberg  grunted.  "I  see.  But  why  did  you 
help  Mr.  Hammersley  to  save  those  papers  when  you 
knew  that  they  were  dangerous  to  England?" 

"I  didn't  know  what  they  were.  I  did  what  he  asked 
me  to  do  because — because " 

She  faltered. 

Von  Stromberg  waved  his  hand. 

"Oh,  very  well.  It  does  not  matter.  Who  did  you 
think  was  pursuing  Mr.  Hammersley?" 

"Agents  of  Mr.  Rizzio." 

"Why  did  you  think  that?" 

"Because  I  heard  part  of  what  happened  between 
Mr.  Rizzio  and  Mr.  Hammersley  in  the  smoking-room 
at  Lady  Heathcote's  and  I  knew  that  Mr.  Rizzio  had 
threatened  Mr.  Hammersley." 

"Did  you  think  the  men  who  followed  you  in  the 
other  machine  were  German  agents?" 

Doris  answered  quickly. 

14  201 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


"Oh,  no.  I  was  sure  that  they  were  men  of  Scot- 
land Yard." 

"Are  you  sure  now?" 

"Oh,  yes.     Subsequent  events  have  proved  it  to  me 
^conclusively." 
'     "Oh!     What  events?" 

"The  things  that  Mr.  Rizzio  did  and  what  he  wrote." 

"He  wrote — to  you?" 

"Yes." 

Rizzio  was  swallowing  uneasily,  his  face  pale,  his 
hands  trembling. 

"Excellenz,  I  can  explain  at  another  time." 

Von  Stromberg  regarded  him  coolly. 

"I  will  hear  you  at  another  time.  For  the  present, 
Fraulein  Mather  will  speak.  What  did  Mr.  Rizzio 
write  to  you  that  led  you  to  think  that  Mr.  Rizzio 
was  in  communication  with  Scotland  Yard?" 

"This  letter,  Excellenz."  She  put  her  fingers  into 
her  waist  and  handed  a  crumpled  paper  to  the  General. 
Rizzio  had  risen  again  and  would  have  interposed  but 
von  Stromberg  waved  him  aside. 

"You  will  all  keep  silence  until  questioned,"  he  said 
abruptly,  and  then  smoothing  the  letter  upon  his 
knee,  read  it  with  great  care  and  deliberateness.  Riz- 
zio made  an  effort  at  composure  but  only  succeeded  in 
bringing  out  a  handkerchief  and  wiping  his  brows. 
Hammersley  watched  von  Stromberg  intently.  He  was 
not  aware  of  the  contents  of  this  letter  but  the  attitude 
of  the  girl  was  distinctly  reassuring.  Von  Stromberg's 
brow  puckered  disagreeably  and  his  long  nose  neared 
the  paper  while  his  eyes  peered  at  the  sheet  as  though 
his  fiery  gaze  would  burn  into  it. 

He  read  the  paper  through  twice  and  then  brought 
his  hand  down  upon  the  table  with  a  crash  while  his 

202 


THE  INQUISITION 


voice  thundered  at  Rizzio,  toward  whom  he  extended 
the  note. 

"It  is  signed  with  your  initials.  Did  you  write 
this?" 

Rizzio  bent  and  examined  the  letter. 

"Excellenz,  I  did,  but  it  was  with  the  object  of 
bringing  Miss  Mather  to " 

"Silence!  Perhaps  you  do  not  recall  its  terms.  I 
will  refresh  your  memory." 

"Excellenz,  if  I  had  not  written  that  letter  Miss 
Mather  would  not  have " 

"Be  quiet.  Sit  down.  Please  listen.  'I  am  telling 
you  this,'  "  he  read,  "  'to  warn  you  that  my  generosity 
to  Hammersley  is  not  actuated  by  any  love  of  a  man 
who  has  spoiled  my  dearest  ambition,  but  by  the  con- 
tinued esteem  with  which  I  still  regard  yourself.  I 
do  not  love  him;  and  my  own  wish,  my  duty,  my  own 
honor,  my  loyalty  to  England  all  acclaim  that  he 
should  be  delivered  at  once  to  those  in  authority.  And 
yet  I  have  refrained — for  you,  Doris.  But  I  have 

learned  that  H is  in  communication  with  G • 

and  that  Crenshaw  of  Scotland  Yard  is  on  the  alert. 
I  may  not  be  able  to  save  him.5 ' 

Von  Stromberg  paused  and  laid  the  letter  upon  the 
table.  "I  could  read  more,"  he  said,  "but  that  is 
enough.  When  did  you  receive  this  letter,  Fraulein?" 

"The  day  after  Mr.  Hammersley  was  shot " 

"And,  acting  upon  it,  you  went  to  Ben-a-Chielt  to 
try  to  persuade  him  from  the  cause  of  Germany." 

"Yes,"  she  said  clearly. 

"You  failed?" 

"I  did." 

"H — m."  The  General  paused  and  turned  to  Rizzio. 

"What  have  you  to  say?" 
203 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


"Merely,  Excellenz,  that  I  thought  Miss  Mather 
knew  too  much  for  Germany's  good  and  I  chose  this 
means  of  getting  her  to  Ben-a-Chielt." 

"Where  she  could  witness  a  secret  meeting  between 
two  officers  of  my  department?  Bah!  Herr  Rizzio, 
your  story  leaks  like  a  sieve.  It  is  full  of  holes."  He 
touched  the  bell  at  his  elbow  and  von  Winden  appeared. 
"You  will  convey  Herr  Rizzio  to  the  room  on  the 
third  floor.  Put  a  guard  over  him." 

Rizzio  started  to  his  feet,  his  face  ghastly,  while 
beads  of  moisture  stood  out  upon  his  forehead. 

"You  will  not  give  me  a  chance  to  explain?"  he 
protested  huskily. 

"You  will  be  given  a  hearing  tomorrow." 

"But,  Excellenz " 

"Take  him  away!" 

As  the  door  closed  behind  the  two  men,  General  von 
Stromberg  came  forward  and  took  Hammersley  by 
the  hand. 

"I  am  glad,  mem  Herr,  that  there  is  no  longer  any 
suspicion  upon  you.  I  have  always  liked  you,  Herr 
Hammersley,  and  you  have  done  the  Vaterland  excel- 
lent service.  I  am  sorry  that  this  investigation  was 
necessary,  but  in  times  like  these  I  am  not  in  a  posi- 
tion to  take  chances." 

"I  understand,  Excellenz.  But  it  hasn't  discom- 
moded me  in  the  least." 

Von  Stromberg  laughed. 

"I  can  readily  believe  it.  You  are  always  as  cool 
as  a  morning  in  May.  As  for  Fraulein  Mather,"  and 
he  turned  ceremoniously  to  Doris  and  bowed  deeply, 
"it  has  all  been  a  mistake.  If  the  efforts  of  a  coun- 
cilor of  the  Empire  in  undoing  the  wrong  done  you, 
by  sending  you  with  every  comfort  and  dispatch  to 

204 


THE  INQUISITION 


England,  are  any  sign  of  regret,  you  shall  be  safely 
on  the  way  tomorrow.  But  I  am  sure  that  in  your 
heart  you  are  glad  to  have  had  the  opportunity  to 
clear  Herr  Hammersley  of  an  unjust  suspicion." 

"Yes,"  she  murmured,  turning  away  toward  the  win- 
dow. 

"But  you  still  wish  that  the  part  of  Herr  Hammers- 
ley  which  is  English  had  been  the  greater  part  of  him 
instead  of  the  lesser,  nicht  wdlir?" 

She  bowed  her  head  but  did  not  reply. 

"Perhaps  it  would  be  better  if  I  left  you  two  alone 
together.  There  is  doubtless  much  that  you  would 
say  which  would  be  only  interesting  to  yourselves." 

And  then  he  went  out,  closing  the  door  behind  him. 


CHAPTER    XVI 
THE  GENERAL  PLAYS  TO  WIN 

WHEN  General  von  Stromberg  went  out  of  the 
room  Doris  turned  toward  Cyril,  her  hap- 
piness in  her  eyes  where  he  could  read  it 
if  he  wished.  But  instead  of  coming  to  her  he  made 
a  warning  gesture  and  then  walked  slowly  around 
the  room,  peering  out  of  the  windows  and  listening  at 
the  doors  until  satisfied  that  they  were  unobserved. 
Then  he  beckoned  her  to  a  spot  out  of  the  line  of 
vision  of  the  door  into  the  adjoining  room.  She 
obeyed  it  wonderingly  while  he  caught  her  in  his  arms 
and  kissed  her  passionately. 

"Thank  God,"  he  whispered,  "you  understood." 

"Oh,  Cyril,"  she  gasped,  "if  anything  had  happened 
to  you " 

"We  must  be  careful,"  he  went  on,  whispering 
hastily.  "My  success  hangs  by  a  hair.  Tonight — 
the  thing  that  I  came  for  will  be  within  my  reach. 
I  must  have  it." 

"There  will  be  danger?" 

''I  hope  not.  But  you  must  not  trust  his  promises 
to  send  you  away.  You  must  get  away  from  here 
tonight  before  eleven.  I  will  help  you.  Before  then 
I  must  see  you  alone.  It  is  not  safe  to  talk  here." 

He  pressed  her  hand  hurriedly  and  moved  slowly 
across  the  room  close  to  the  wall  and  door,  which  he 
examined  as  he  passed. 

"But,  Cyril " 

206 


THE  GENERAL  PLAYS  TO  WIN 

A  warning  finger  stopped  her. 

"There  is  no  use  in  your  trying  to  persuade  me,  old 
girl,"  he  said,  his  voice  raised  to  a  tone  which  seemed 
louder  than  necessary.  "I  am  only  doing  my  duty  as 
I  see  it.  But  whatever  happens  I  can  at  least  remem- 
ber that  you  told  the  truth." 

What  did  he  mean?  She  couldn't  understand.  She 
followed  him  with  her  gaze.  The  fingers  of  one  hand 
were  tracing  the  flowers  of  the  wallpaper  upon  one 
side  of  the  room,  and  as  she  looked  he  glanced  out  of 
the  window  and  then  got  quickly  upon  a  chair  and 
peered  into  an  aperture  in  the  cornice. 

"I  am  not  sorry  for  Rizzio,"  he  said  again,  dusting 
off  the  chair  and  replacing  it.  "He  only  gets  what  he 
deserved.  What  did  he  do  to  you?  How  did  he  find 
you?" 

A  glance  at  his  face  showed  her  that  he  expected  her 
to  reply. 

"I  was  lost  on  the  moor,"  she  faltered.  "I  followed 
you  to  Rudha  Mor  and  saw  you  leave  in  the  Yellow 
Dove.  When  I  turned  to  go  back,  a  cloth  was  thrown 
over  my  head.  They  chloroformed  me ' 

He  muttered  an  imprecation.  "And  on  the 
yacht " 

"I — I  had  nothing  to  complain  of.  He  did  every- 
thing he  could  for  my  comfort." 

She  watched  him  again  moving  around  the  room. 
At  the  chimney  he  paused  and,  reaching  swiftly 
upward,  lifted  the  clock  and  then  put  it  into  its  place 
again,  the  expression  in  his  face  still  strained  and 
anxious. 

"I  am  not  sorry  for  him,"  he  said  again.  Suddenly 
he  came  to  her  saying  in  such  a  low  whisper  that  she 
could  hardly  hear  him, 

207 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


"I'm  not  satisfied.  There's  something  dangerous  in 
von  Stromberg's  sudden  kindness.  Act,  Doris.  We 
are  overheard."  And  then  in  louder  tones,  "If  any- 
thing had  happened  to  you — 

She  glanced  around  her  timidly,  her  initiative  sud- 
denly at  a  loss. 

"N-nothing  happened  to  me,"  she  repeated  be- 
wildered. 

"I  would  have  made  another  death  for  him — a  man's 
death  at  least." 

"It  is  terrible,"  she  managed  to  say,  "and  I  will 
have  been  the  cause  of  it." 

He  came  closer  and  took  her  by  the  hand,  speaking 
distinctly. 

"And  do  you  regret  that  it  is  Rizzio  instead  of 
me?" 

"No,  no,"  she  stammered.  Her  accents  of  horror 
were  genuine,  but  it  seemed  more  horrible  that  she 
should  be  making  a  farce  of  her  genuine  emotions. 
Yet  Cyril's  eyes  impelled  her.  "It  is  terrible.  I  can't 
believe " 

"General  von  Stromberg  is  not  a  man  to  make  idle 
threats.  I  am  glad  that  I  am  not  in  Rizzio's  shoes." 

She  saw  him  pause,  his  mouth  open,  gazing  upward 
at  the  lithograph  of  Emperor  William.  To  Doris  the 
picture  merely  typified  power,  ambition,  intolerance  of 
any  ideals  but  those  of  military  glory.  But  it  was  not 
at  the  portrait  that  Cyril  was  looking.  He  was  exam- 
ining the  frame,  which  was  swung  a  little  to  one  side, 
revealing  a  patch  of  unfaded  wallpaper.  He  looked 
down  into  the  fireplace  thoughtfully  and  while  the  girl 
wondered  what  he  was  going  to  do  next,  he  whirled 
suddenly  and  moved  quickly  toward  the  door  into  the 
hall,  which  he  opened  swiftly  straight  into  the  face 

208 


THE  GENERAL  PLAYS  TO  WIN 

of  Captain  Wentz,  who  managed  to  step  back  only  in 
time  to  avoid  it. 

But  the  officer  was  equal  to  the  occasion. 

"I  was  seeking  General  von  Stromberg,"  he  said 
coolly. 

"He  isn't  here,"  Doris  heard  Cyril  say  quietly.  And 
then,  "I  wanted  a  glass  of  water.  Fraulein  Mather 
is  feeling  ill." 

"Ah!  I  will  have  it  brought  at  once."  As  he  dis- 
appeared in  the  passage  to  the  kitchen,  Cyril  closed 
the  door  and  came  in  three  strides  to  the  fireplace, 
reached  up  and  raised  the  picture  from  the  wall,  peer- 
ing under  it,  and  touched  the  surface  of  the  wallpaper 
with  the  tips  of  his  fingers.  Then  with  great  care  he 
put  the  picture  back  in  its  place  and  bent  over  Doris 
close  to  her  ear,  whispering:  "They  suspect.  Every- 
thing we  have  said  has  been  overheard.  A  microphone ! 
I  knew  it  was  here  somewhere." 

The  pallor  of  her  face  when  the  man  from  the 
kitchen  brought  the  water  was  almost  convincing  proof 
of  the  truth  of  Hammersley's  statement.  She  did  look 
ill,  for  terror  of  the  situation  that  confronted  them 
had  driven  the  blood  back  to  her  heart.  A  moment  ago 
the  room  had  seemed  so  friendly,  and  now  every  object 
in  it  was  a  menace.  And  above  the  mantel  the  Em- 
peror of  Germany  with  his  upturned  mustaches  glared 
down  at  her  austerely,  eloquent  of  the  relentless  forces 
that  held  them  in  their  thrall.  Behind  her  she  heard 
Cyril  whispering  with  the  man  who  had  brought  the 
water  and  realized  that  it  was  the  tall  soldier  with  the 
lame  leg  who  had  brought  her  toast  and  eggs  up- 
stairs. 

"DanJce  sehr,  Lindberg,"  Cyril  said  aloud.  "She  is 
tired  from  the  journey." 

209 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


"Perhaps,  Herr  Hammersley,  a  little  fresh  air  will 
help.  A  stroll  in  the  kitchen  garden." 

Doris  got  up  in  sudden  relief  as  she  understood. 

"Yes,"  she  said.  "Perhaps  I  will  feel  better  in  the 
air." 

Cyril  led  the  way  to  the  door  and  together  they  went 
out.  They  heard  sounds  of  heavy  footsteps  in  the 
hallway  above  but  did  not  pause,  making  their  way 
along  the  path  which  led  around  the  house.  Cyril  did 
not  turn  toward  her,  but  she  heard  him  speaking. 

"They  will  call  us  back.  Do  not  be  frightened.  If 
von  Stromberg  questions  again,  answer  to  the  best  of 
your  ability.  I  will  find  a  means  of  reaching  your 
room  tonight.  In  the  meanwhile  keep  up  your  cour- 
age" 

She  did  not  reply  for  she  heard  steps  behind  her, 
and  turning,  found  Captain  Wentz,  who  bowed,  taking 
off  his  cap. 

"General  von  Stromberg  requests  me  to  ask,"  he  said 
in  very  good  English,  "if  Miss  Mather  will  not  give 
him  the  pleasure  of  joining  him  in  a  cup  of  chocolate." 

"He  is  very  kind,"  she  said  slowly  with  a  glance  at 
Cyril.  "Of  course — I  shall  be  very  glad." 

The  officer  replaced  his  cap  and,  turning  to  Ham- 
mersley, spoke  in  German. 

"His  Excellenz  also  requests  that  Herr  Hammers- 
ley  will  remain  within  call." 

Hammersley  bowed. 

"Tell  his  Excellenz  with  my  compliments  that  with 
his  permission  I  will  smoke  my  pipe  here  in  the  kitchen 
garden." 

Doris  followed  the  officer  into  the  room  they  had  just 
left  and  von  Stromberg  joined  her  almost  immediately. 

"Ach,  gnadiges  Fraulem,"  he  said  with  his  blandest 
219 


THE  GENERAL  PLATS  TO  WIN 

manner,  "you  will  forgive  me  for  calling  you  back  from, 
your  contemplation  of  the  beauties  of  this  lovely  after- 
noon, but  there  are  certain  questions,  merely  trifling 
ones,  which  have  to  do  with  the  fate  of  Herr  Rizzio 
which  I  neglected  to  ask  you.  You  will  not  begrudge 
an  old  man  the  privilege  of  a  few  words  over  a  cup 
of  chocolate?" 

She  smiled  at  him  bravely,  as  a  woman  can  do,  even 
in  a  last  extremity,  and  told  him  that  she  was  flat- 
tered by  this  mark  of  his  condescension. 

A  wave  of  the  hand  and  Wentz  disappeared,  while 
Lindberg,  the  lame  man,  entered  with  the  chocolate. 
The  General  had  the  tray  put  upon  the  table  before 
her  and  asked  her  to  serve  it,  standing  erect  and 
watching  her  with  open  admiration.  Doris  was  fright- 
ened, for  she  had  already  seen  the  power  that  this  old 
man  possessed.  But  with  an  effort  she  found  her  com- 
posure and  made  up  her  mind  that  if  she  was  alarmed 
von  Stromberg  at  least  should  not  be  aware  of  it.  The 
safest  defense  against  such  a  man  was  audacity. 

"You  were  feeling  ill,"  he  said,  suavely  sympathetic. 
"The  long  morning  in  the  train  and  the  strain  of  your 
ordeal.  It  is  but  natural.  A  little  cup  of  chocolate 
and  a  biscuit  should  revive  you  wonderfully.  Nicht 
wahr?"  His  English,  though  excellent,  had  a  slight 
German  accent  and  his  tone  the  quality  of  a  lullaby. 

"It  is  very  good,"  said  Doris.  "I  have  often  heard 
it  said  that  nowhere  in  the  world  is  chocolate  so  excel- 
lent as  in  Germany." 

"I  trust  that  you  may  find  it  so.  There  are  many 
things  beside  chocolate  that  are  excellent  in  Germany, 
Fraulein  Mather." 

"I  am  sure  that  must  be  true,"  she  said  politely, 
touching  the  cup  to  her  lips. 

211 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


"Then  why  do  you  dislike  us  so  much?"  he  asked 
with  a  smile. 

"It  is  not  your  people  that  I  dislike  so  much, 
General  von  Stromberg.  Many  of  the  most  charming 
people  I  have  ever  known  have  been  Germans.  It  is 
not  what  you  are,  but  what  you  want  to  be,  that  I  dis- 
like; not  your  habits  or  your  tastes,  but  your  intoler- 
ance of  any  civilization  which  happens  to  differ  from 
yours." 

She  paused,  a  little  frightened  at  her  temerity,  but 
von  Stromberg  still  smiled. 

"Go  on,"  he  chuckled,  "you  speak  very  prettily." 

"I  am  an  American,  General  von  Stromberg,  from 
the  United  States,  where  people  are  accustomed  to 
speak  what  they  feel,  without  fear  of  Use  majeste. 
If  the  President  of  the  United  States  did  something 
that  I  didn't  like  I  would  write  him  a  letter." 

"And  would  he  answer  it?"  he  purred. 

"If  he  had  time,  yes.  If  anyone  wrote  such  a  letter 
to  your  Emperor,  he  would  be  boiled  in  oil." 

Von  Stromberg  roared  with  delight.  "Boiled  in  oil !" 
he  repeated. 

"Yes — or  perhaps  some  more  exquisite  cruelty  that 
your  ingenious  people  have  devised,"  she  said  coolly. 
"To  prosaic  minds  like  mine,  Excellenz,  you  Germans 
are  the  wonders  of  the  age.  You  are  both  godlike  and 
Saturnian;  a  nation  of  military  fanatics,  a  nation  of 
silly  sentimentalists ;  a  nation  trained  to  scientific  bru- 
tality, which  shares  the  sorrows  of  the  dying  rose. 
Which  is  it  that  you  want  us  to  think  you,  the  god  or 
the  satyr?" 

"We  know  that  we  are  the  god,"  he  said,  showing  his 
teeth,  "but  we  want  you  to  think  us  the  satyr." 

"You  have  succeeded,  Excellenz,"  she  replied  calmly. 
212 


THE  GENERAL  PLAYS  TO  WIN 

"It  is  very  pleasant  to  be  sitting  here  drinking  choco- 
late with  a  Geheimrath — a  councilor  of  the  Empire — 
but  you'll  pardon  me  if  I  say  that  the  peculiarly  social 
pleasure  of  the  occasion  is  somewhat  marred  by  the 
fact  that  if  the  whim  happened  to  strike  you  you  could 
have  me  strung  up  by  the  thumbs." 

"You  think  that  I  am  cruel?  Ach,  no,  Fraulein. 
You  are  mistaken,"  in  his  blandest  tones.  "I  have  a 
daughter  in  East  Prussia  of  just  your  age.  For  that 
reason  I  would  like  to  have  you  think  of  me  a  little 
as  the  sentimentalist  rather  than  as  the — the  brute — 
as  you  have  been  pleased  to  suggest.  I  am  not  cruel 
and  I  shall  prove  it  to  you." 

"In  America,  Excellenz,  we  do  not  make  war  upon 
women." 

"Nor  do  I  make  war  upon  you,"  he  put  in  quickly. 
"I  did  not  bring  you  to  Germany,  Fraulein.  Herr 
Rizzio  acted  upon  his  own  responsibility.  Even  yet,  if 
he  is  an  English  agent,  I  cannot  understand  his  pur- 
pose in  bringing  such  an  incriminating  document." 

He  smiled  as  he  spoke,  but  she  felt  the  question  and 
its  threat.  For  a  moment  the  directness  of  his  attack 
bewildered  her  and  so  she  sipped  her  chocolate  to  gain 
a  moment  of  time. 

"General  von  Stromberg,"  she  said  at  last,  as  the 
idea  came  to  her,  "I  am  told  that  you  have  one  of  the 
keenest  intellects  in  the  Empire  of  Germany.  I  feel 
much  like  a  child  before  you,  who  should  see  matters 
much  more  clearly  than  I.  There  were  two  reasons 
why  he  brought  me,  one  of  which  bears  upon  our  per- 
sonal relations,  the  other  upon  his  relation  to  England. 
I  knew  that  he  possessed  your  confidence,  otherwise 
he  would  not  have  been  in  possession  of  a  document 
which  empowered  Mr.  Hammersley  to  give  up  the 

213 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


secret  message  of  Captain  Byfield.  I  knew  too  much. 
If  I  had  told  my  friends  in  England  what  I  knew, 
his  utility  to  England  would  have  been  gone." 

"Why?  It  seems  to  me  that  having  my  confidence 
would  have  made  his  utility  to  England  the  greater." 

"He  would  have  been  suspected  of  double  dealing, 
would  he  not?" 

"As  a  friend  of  England  you  would  have  let  him 
be  suspected?"  he  asked  quietly.  "Given  evidence 
against  a  man  whom  you  knew  to  be  acting  in  Eng- 
land's interests?" 

"There  were  other — other — interests,"  she  faltered, 
"more  important  to  me  than  England's — Mr.  Ham- 
mersley's.  You  have  a  daughter,  Excellenz.  Perhaps 
you  would  try  to  think  of  me  as  you  would  think  of  her 
in  a  similar  situation.  When  I  read  those  papers  at 
Ashwater  Park  I  knew  that  the  man  to  whom  I  was 
promised  and  of  whom  I  had  always  thought  as  an 
Englishman  was  acting  as  a  secret  agent — a  spy  of 
Germany.  He  was  pursued  by  agents  of  the  English 
War  Office.  I  knew  that  if  his  connection  with  Germany 
were  discovered  he  would  be  shot.  I  was  frightened.  I 
did  not  know  what  to  do.  John  Rizzio  followed  me  to 
Scotland  and  tried  to  get  the  papers.  I  refused  to 
give  them  to  him.  And  then  when — when  Mr.  Ham- 
mersley  came  I  burned  them.  There  was  nothing 
left  for  me  to  do — for  England — for  him.  If  there 
were  no  papers  there  could  be  no  evidence  against 
him." 

She  paused  to  get  her  breath,  aware  that  her  com- 
panion was  listening  intently,  and  fearfully  afraid  that 
she  was  saying  too  much. 

"And  then—?"  he  asked. 

"And  then,"  she  went  on  more  slowly,  "I  found  the 
214 


THE  GENERAL  PLAYS  TO  WIN 

other  papers.  When  I  wouldn't  give  them  to  him, 
Mr.  Hammersley  took  them  away  from  me.  We  quar- 
reled, Excellenz,  and  I  gave  him  up." 

"And  after  that—" 

"After  that  came  Mr.  Rizzio's  note  asking  me  to 
go  to  Ben-a-Chielt  and  see  the  meeting  between  Cyr — 
between  Mi.  Hammersley  and  your  messenger  in  the 
last  hope  that  I  could  make  Mr.  Hammersley  give 
up  his  plans  to  deliver  the  message  to  you.  As  you 
know  I  failed.  It  was  there — after  that — that  Mr. 
Rizzio,  who  had  overheard  our  conversation,  tried  to 
kill  Mr.  Hammersley,  knowing  that  he  had  resolved 
to  deliver  the  message."  She  got  up  and  paced  the 
floor.  "Oh,  it  is  so  clear,  what  Rizzio  was,  that  I 
wonder  that  it  should  be  necessary  for  me  to  tell  it  to 
you." 

"Yes,  I  see.  And  the  other — the  personal  reasons 
you  mentioned." 

She  hesitated.  "It  is  difficult  to  speak  of  them — 
but  I  will  tell  you.  Mr.  Rizzio  has  forfeited  all  right 
to  my  loyalty.  He  offered  to  marry  me.  I  refused 
him.  He  told  me  he  would  never  give  me  up.  In 
Scotland  he  threatened  Cyril — Mr.  Hammersley's  life. 
I  know  now  what  he  meant." 

"Yes,  but  in  his  letter  to  you  he  does  not  threaten. 
He  urges  that  he  is  doing  what  he  can  to  save  Ham- 
mersley !" 

"I  did  not  believe  him.  I  was  right.  Events  have 
proved  it.  He  would  have  been  glad  to  see  Mr.  Ham- 
mersley out  of  the  way."  She  covered  her  face  with 
her  hands  and  sank  into  her  chair  again.  "Oh,"  she 
whispered,  "it  is  horrible — horrible.  And  it  is  I  who 
must  be  the  instrument  of  justice." 

Von  Stromberg  waited  for  a  moment,  tapping  one 
215 


THE  YELLOW  DOFE 


finger  of  his  left  hand  very  slowly  upon  the  back  of 
his  right. 

"Try  to  compose  yourself,  liebes  Fraidein,"  he  urged 
calmly,  and,  as  she  looked  up  at  him:  "You  say  he 
wanted  to  be  rid  of  Herr  Hammersley.  Can  you  tell 
me  then,  why  his  men  did  not  shoot  him  when  they  had 
him  prisoner  at  Ashwater  Park  gates?" 

"I  do  not  know.  Perhaps  they  would  have  done  so 
if  he  hadn't  escaped." 

Von  Stromberg  paused  again,  and  then,  gently : 

"You  love  Herr  Hammersley  a  great  deal,  Frau- 
lein?" 

She  bent  her  gaze  upon  him  appealingly. 

"Would  I  now  be  here,  Excellenz?"  she  asked. 

Von  Stromberg  bent  his  head  and  then  got  up  and 
slowly  paced  the  length  of  the  room.  When  he  re- 
turned there  was  another  note  in  his  voice.  It  was 
still  quiet  but  the  legato  note  had  gone,  and  it  was 
ice-cold. 

"You  do  well  to  tell  your  story  through  the  medium 
of  sentiment  which  you  well  understand,  rather  than 
through  the  medium  of  logic,  which  you  do  not  under- 
stand, which  no  woman  understands." 

At  his  change  of  tone  she  glanced  up.  He  was  leer- 
ing at  her  unpleasantly. 

"I  do  not  know  what  you  mean,"  she  murmured. 

"You  are  very  clever,  Fraulein,  but  your  story  has 
a  great  many  holes  in  it — little  holes  which  might  grow 
into  big  ones,  if  one  were  disposed  to  enlarge  them. 
There  are  several  things  which  are  not  at  all  clear 
to  me.  Of  course  it  must  be  as  apparent  to  you  as  it 
is  to  me  that  if  Herr  Rizzio  was^n  English  agent,  by 
remaining  in  England  he  had  nothing  to  fear  from 
you  or  anyone  else.  His  object,  too,  in  bringing  you 

216 


"The  truth,  and  he  becomes  an  honorable  prisoner  of  war. 
Silence,  and  he  is  shot  tomorrow.     Speak." 


THE  GENERAL  PLAYS  TO  WIN 

to  Germany  is  clear.  As  you  say,  you  knew  too  much, 
not  about  his  connection  with  the  English  War  Office, 
which,  of  course,  would  not  matter  in  the  least,  but 
about  Herr  Rizzio's  connection  with  me,  which  would 
have  mattered  a  great  deal." 

He  tapped  his  long  forefinger  upon  his  breast  sig- 
nificantly and  leaned  forward  ominously  across  the 
table.  He  dominated,  hypnotized  her.  She  closed  her 
eyes,  trembling  violently. 

"Do  you  mean  that  you  do  not  believe?  His  letter, 
Excellenz — surely  you  believe  that  to  be  genuine?" 

"Bait,  Fraulein — that  is  all.  Excellent  bait.  You 
swallowed  it.  Herr  Hammersley  very  cleverly  pre- 
pared himself  against  surprise.  Only  the  fortunate 
accident  of  your  losing  yourself  upon  the  moor  saved 
Herr  Rizzio  from  failure.'* 

"Oh,  you  are  all  wrong.  You  are  willfully  making 
me  suffer.  I  have  told  the  truth." 

Von  Stromberg  straightened  and  drew  from  his 
pocket  a  military  telegraph  form  which  he  smoothed 
out  gently  with  his  long,  bony  fingers. 

"Unfortunately  for  Herr  Hammersley  I  have  just 
received  a  message  from  another  agent  in  London — • 
in  whom  I  have  implicit  faith.  You  read  German  a 
little.  Would  you  care  to  see  it?" 

He  laid  it  upon  the  table  before  her  eyes  and  she 
looked,  her  eyes  distended  with  terror  of  she  knew 
now  what. 

Hammersley  caused  arrest  of  Byfield.  Has  informed 
on  Rizzio  and  myself.  Am  in  hiding  in  Kent.  Will 
reach  Germany  by  usual  methods.  MAXWELL. 

Doris   sat  immovable,   petrified  with  horror.     Von 
Stromberg's  voice  crackled  harshly  at  her  ear. 
15  217 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


"Well?     And  what  have  you  to  say?" 

"It  is  a  lie!"  she  managed  to  stammer.  "He  lies — ' 
lies,  I  tell  you!" 

"Ach!  If  I  could  believe  you!  Why  should  he  lie? 
Unlike  the  case  of  Rizzio,  Herr  Hammersley  has  not 
robbed  Herr  Maxwell  of  a  bride." 

"There  is  a  mistake " 

"I  fear  not." 

"But  why  should  Mr.  Hammersley  have  come?  He 
would  have  been  safe  in  England — 

"He  himself  says  to  the  contrary 

She  was  breaking  fast  and  he  sought  further  to 
involve  her. 

"He  did  not  have  to  come.  Why  should  he  have 
come?"  she  asked  wildly,  rising  to  her  feet  and  laying 
her  hands  upon  his  arm.  "Answer  me  that,  Excellenz." 

For  reply  he  turned  away  from  her  abruptly  and 
walked  the  length  of  the  room  to  an  end  window, 
where  he  stood  for  a  moment  looking  out. 

"Come,  Fraulein,  and  I  will  show  you  something." 

She  approached  him  blindly  and  followed  his  gaze 
around  the  corner  of  the  building.  Upon  a  tree 
stump  in  the  kitchen  garden,  looking  out  across  the 
fields  toward  the  wooded  hills  sat  Hammersley,  calmly 
smoking. 

"Half  of  his  blood  is  English,  half  Prussian,  Frau- 
lein, but  it  is  the  English  in  him  that  dominates.  Is 
there  anything  that  is  Prussian  about  him?  Tell  me. 
From  the  crown  of  his  head  to  the  sole  of  his  foot — • 
his  pipe,  his  bent  shoulders,  his  careless  air— he  is 
English,  all  English.  He  knows  that  at  this  moment 
I  am  weighing  his  fate  in  the  balance  and  yet  he 
smokes  his  short  wooden  pipe.  If  he  has  Prussian 
blood  it  is  a  pity,  for  Germany  needs  all  the  Prussian 

218 


THE  GENERAL  PLAYS  TO  WIN 

blood  that  flows  red  in  the  veins  of  men."  He  paused 
and  then  abruptly,  "But  the  Prussian  blood  must  be 
sacrificed  with  the  English  -  " 

She  fell  back  from  him,  deathly  white,  groping  for 
a  chair  to  support  her. 

"You  mean  -  "  she  whispered. 

"That  I  can  take  no  chances.  He  will  be  shot  to- 
morrow." 

"O  God!  He  is  loyal  to  Germany.  I  swear  it." 
Her  utterance  was  choked.  Her  breath  came  with 
difficulty.  The  room  darkened  suddenly  and  she  seemed 
about  to  swoon.  She  dropped  to  her  knees  beside  the 
armchair,  clinging  to  it,  trying  to  speak,  but  no  words 
would  come.  She  was  aware  of  his  hawk-like  face  bend- 
ing over  her  as  though  in  the  act  of  striking  its  prey 
and  she  heard  his  voice  at  her  ear. 

"There  is  one  chance  to  save  him." 

She  reached  his  hand  and  clung  to  it. 

"A    chance  —  what  —  " 

"Tell  me  the  truth,"  he  said  sternly. 

"I  —  I  hare  told  you  the  truth.     He  is  innocent." 

He  loosened  her  fingers  and  stood  away. 

"Quatsch!"  he  muttered,  leaning  forward.  "The 
truth,  girl!" 


She  fell  against  the  chair  and  clung  to  it  for  sup- 
port. 

"The  truth,  and  he  becomes  an  honorable  prisoner 
of  war.     Silence,  and  he  is  shot  tomorrow.     Speak." 

"He  is  --  "     The  words  choked  her.     "He  is  --  " 

"Bah  !"  he  growled,  moving  toward  the  table.    "You 
have  already  convicted  him!" 

She  struggled  to  her  feet  and  followed  him.    He  was 
about  to  touch  the  bell  when  she  caught  his  arm. 

219 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


"Wait!"  she  whispered.  "What  guarantee  have  I 
that  he  will  not  be  injured?" 

He  shrugged  and  laughed.  "I  need  give  no  guaran- 
tee now,  Fraulein.  This  is  not  a  court  of  law!  I  am 
the  judge  of  what  constitutes  proof.  You  have  testi- 
fied." 

He  shook  her  off  and  sounded  the  bell,  which  was 
immediately  answered  by  Udo  von  Winden. 

"You  will  conduct  Fraulein  Mather  to  her  room  up- 
stairs. Lock  the  door  and  bring  me  the  key.  Then 
tell  Herr  Hammersley  that  I  am  waiting  to  see  him." 


CHAPTER   XVH 
LINDBERG 

WHEN  Hammersley  entered  the  house  with  von 
Winden  he  was  immediately  aware  that  a 
crisis  had  come  in  his  affairs,  for  in  the  hall 
leading  to  the  living-room  stood  Captain  Wentz  and 
two  soldiers,  and  when  he  was  shown  into  von  Strom- 
berg's  presence,  the  Councilor  stood  with  his  back 
to  the  hearth,  his  long  legs  wide  apart,  his  hands  be- 
hind his  back  and  the  expression  of  his  long,  bony  face 
was  not  pleasant  to  see.  He  smiled  and  frowned  at 
the  same  time — a  smile  which  possessed  so  few  of  the 
ingredients  of  humor  that  the  tangled  brows  even 
seemed  less  ominous.  Doris  was  nowhere  to  be  seen. 
Hammersley  made  no  sign  of  his  prescience  of  trouble. 
He  put  his  pipe  in  the  pocket  of  his  leather  jacket, 
strolled  forward  into  the  room  and  stood  at  attention. 
"Search  him !"  snapped  von  Stromberg.  And  when  von 
Winden  had  finished,  "Leave  us,"  he  said  to  the  officer, 
"and  keep  within  call,  I  shall  need  you  presently." 
He  waited  until  the  door  was  closed  and  then  turned 
to  Hammersley  somberly. 

"Your  jig  is  danced,  Herr  Hammersley,  Fraulein 
Mather  has  confessed." 

"Confessed  what,  Excellenz?"  questioned  Hammers- 
ley  calmly. 

"She  has  told  the  truth." 

"Of  course,  that  was  to  be  expected  of  her." 

"Bah!"  roared  the  General.  "There's  no  need  of 
221 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


more  of  that.     She  told  me  that  you  were  an  English 


Hammersley  started  forward,  the  only  expression 
on  his  face  one  of  complete  incredulity.  "Fraulein 
Mather  told  you  that?  Impossible!" 

"Do  you  mean  to  say  that  you  don't  believe  me?" 

Hammersley  managed  a  smile. 

"It  would  hardly  be  good  ethics  for  me  to  say  that. 
I  simply  repeat  that  it  is  impossible." 

"Why?"  Von  Stromberg  sneered. 

"Because  it  is  morally  impossible  for  her  to  tell  an 
untruth." 

"Ach,  so.  But  it  is  physically  impossible  for  her 
to  keep  from  not  doing  so."  He  leaned  forward,  grin- 
ning craftily.  "In  the  small  games  of  life,  in  the  things 
which  amount  to  nothing,  women  lie  with  a  careless 
skill  that  is  amazing,  but  in  a  game  of  life  and  death, 
their  little  tricks  are  negligible.  Pouf!  Herr  Ham- 
mersley, did  you  expect  to  match  mere  falsehood  and 
such  a  tissue  of  flimsy  evidence  against  a  man  of  my 
experience?  It  was  a  desperate  game  from  the  begin- 
ning —  one  which  could  have  had  only  one  end.  You 
have  been  clever  —  very,  very  clever.  In  time,  perhaps, 
under  proper  guidance  and  with  the  necessary  political 
opinions,  you  could  have  succeeded  in  becoming  a  very 
useful  helper  of  the  Universe,  through  the  medium  of 
the  Secret  Service  Department  of  the  German  Em- 
pire. But  such  cleverness  is  superficial  and  quickly 
burns  out  in  the  hotter  fire  of  genius.  I  would  like  you 
to  know  —  " 

"One  moment,  Excellenz,"  put  in  Hammersley 
coolly.  "Am  I  to  understand  from  your  attitude  that 
you  believe  I  am  false  to  the  Vaterland?" 

Von  Stromberg  laughed. 


LINDBERG 

"You  still  insist  on  acting  out  the  part?" 

Hammersley  did  not  answer  the  question.  Instead 
he  asked,  "Will  you  be  good  enough  to  tell  me  upon 
what  new  evidence  you  base  your  present  position?" 

The  Councilor  strode  to  the  table  and  thrust  the 
telegraphic  message  he  had  shown  to  the  girl  under 
Hammersley's  nose. 

"This,"  he  growled.  "I  will  read  it  to  you.  'Ham- 
mersley caused  arrest  of  Byfield.  Has  informed  on 

Rizzio  and  myself '  It's  signed  'Maxwell.'  What 

do  you  think  of  my  evidence?"  He  grinned,  "Convinc- 
ing, nicht  wahr?" 

Hammersley  looked  up  into  von  Stromberg's  face 
with  a  smile. 

"Not  even  in  code,  Excellenz?  It  is  a  pity  you  did 
not  write  it  in  English.  But  under  the  circumstances 
you  can't  expect  me  to  take  any  interest  in  such  a 
trick." 

"Not  you,  Herr  Hammersley,"  he  chuckled.  "It  is 
not  necessary  that  you  should  believe  in  it.  In  fact 
there  are  reasons  why  you  shouldn't  believe  in  it,  the 
most  important  reason  being  that  Herr  Maxwell  is 
dead." 

"Dead !" 

"Obviously.  You  condemned  him  and  he  was  put  in 
prison.  If  he  is  not  dead  it  is  through  no  fault  of 
yours." 

Hammersley  smiled.  "You  cannot  get  me  to  ac- 
quiesce in  such  strange  statements." 

"I  do  not  ask  you  to  acquiesce.  I  could  not  expect 
to  catch  Herr  Hammersley  by  a  trick.  But  Miss 
Mather  was  less  difficult." 

Hammersley's  jaws  set.  "I  understand.  But  do 
you  mean  to  say  that  I  can  be  incriminated  by  a  con- 

223 


THE  YELLOW  DOFE 


fession  made  under  the  stress  of  a  terror  artificially 
produced  ?" 

i  "That  is  a  clever  turn  of  phrase,  Herr  Hammers- 
ley,  worthy  of  the  high  regard  with  which  I  hold  your 
abilities.  In  reply  I  can  only  say  that  in  time  of  war 
my  deductions  in  all  matters  connected  with  my  de- 
partment are  final.  You  are  an  English  spy,  Herr 
Hammersley,  and  you  are  quite  aware  of  the  penalty." 

Hammersley  raised  his  head  and  folded  his  arms. 
"Quite,"  he  replied,  "if  you  choose  to  take  that  action. 
I  can  only  say  that  the  time  will  come  when  you  will 
regret  it." 

"I  must  take  that  chance,  for  there  will  be  no  trial." 

Hammersley  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  turned 
aside.  His  face  was  white  and  the  muscles  at  his  jaws 
worked  for  a  moment,  but  otherwise  he  gave  no  sign 
of  emotion.  General  von  Stromberg  had  gone  back  to 
his  favorite  pose  by  the  mantel  and  Hammersley  again 
heard  his  voice. 

"It  seems  a  pity,  Herr  Hammersley,  that  after  all 
it  should  be  you  instead  of  Herr  Rizzio  who  is  the 
culprit.  You  are  a  type  of  young  man  very  much 
to  my  liking,  and  the  position  of  the  young  lady  is 
unpleasant  in  the  extreme.  She  has  served  her  purpose 
here  and  I  shall,  of  course,  take  immediate  steps  to 
have  her  returned  to  her  own  people." 

"Thanks,"  said  Hammersley  dryly. 

"But  the  thing  that  has  interested  me  in  your  case 
from  the  first,"  he  continued  with  a  return  of  his  mas- 
todonic  playfulness,  "and  indeed  still  continues  to  in- 
terest me,  is  why  you  should  choose  to  return  to  Ger- 
many when  you  knew  that  you  were  under  suspicion. 
Surely  you  did  not  come  here  to  pick  cowslips  in 
March?,  Come  now,  I  could  have  you  shot  this  after- 


LINDBERG 

noon  if  I  chose.  Tell  me  the  truth  and  I  will  promise 
to  postpone  the  affair  until  tomorrow." 

Hammersley  studied  the  pattern  in  the  rug  thought- 
fully for  a  moment,  and  at  last  he  straightened  and 
shrugged  again. 

"I  don't  suppose  there  is  any  use  playing  the  game 
further.  Since  I  am  to  go,  it  doesn't  matter  if  I  tell 
you.  I  have  planned  for  some  time  to  be  able  to  get 
plans  of  the  recent  additions  to  the  fortifications  of 
Strassburg." 

"Ach,  so.  Strassburg!  And  what,  may  I  ask,  were 
to  be  your  means  of  procuring  them?" 

"That,  of  course,  since  my  utility  has  ceased,  can- 
not possibly  be  of  interest  to  you." 

Von  Stromberg  studied  him  narrowly  for  a  long  mo- 
ment and  then  wagged  his  head  sagely.  It  was  an 
unnecessary  suspicion  that  he  had  cherished.  This  had 
been  a  case  with  interesting  aspects,  but  after  all  it 
was  not  much  out  of  the  usual  way.  An  English  spy 
betrayed  by  the  simplest  of  tricks  upon  the  credulity 
and  affection  of  a  woman.  He  thought  that  Hammers- 
ley  had  been  after  bigger  game.  Plans,  fortifications 
' — the  same  objects,  the  same  methods.  Von  Stromberg 
had  tried  to  puzzle  out  in  the  mazes  of  his  wonderful 
brain  the  possible  chance  that  this  man  could  have 
had  of  learning  of  the  whereabouts  of  Herr  Gotts- 
chalk's  memoranda  and  of  the  momentous  decision 
which  had  been  reached  in  the  Wilhelmstrasse  with 
regard  to  them.  He  studied  Hammersley  closely,  with 
something  approaching  regret  that  the  contest  between 
them  could  not  have  been  waged  at  greater  length  and 
for  higher  stakes.  He  felt  a  genuine  human  sorrow  at 
this  moment  over  the  impending  fate  of  this  handsome 
young  man  who  was  only  doing  his  duty  for  the  fatu- 

225 


THE  YELLOW  DOFE 


ous  English.  It  was  too  bad.  But  there  was  much 
else  to  do.  Tomorrow  his  mission  in  this  part  of  the 
Empire  would  be  ended  and  the  Wilhelmstrasse  was 
calling.  He  touched  the  bell  upon  the  table  and  Cap- 
tain Wentz  entered. 

"Herr  Hammersley  is  to  be  taken  to  the  room  or 
the  third  floor.  Tonight  you  will  see  that  he  is  se- 
curely bound  and  a  guard  set  over  him,  within  the 
room.  You  will  place  another  guard  outside  below 
his  window.  If  he  tries  to  escape,  shoot  him." 

Wentz  spoke  to  the  man  in  the  hall  and  Hammers- 
ley,  between  them,  was  led  to  the  foot  of  the  steps, 
and  followed  his  captors  to  the  upper  story.  He 
knew,  in  view  of  the  instructions  that  he  had  over- 
heard, that  any  effort  to  escape  would  be  fruitless. 
He  sat  on  the  edge  of  the  bed  submitting  calmly  while 
his  feet  and  hands  were  bound  under  the  direction  of 
Captain  Wentz ;  after  which  the  officers  went  out,  leav- 
ing a  man  to  guard  him,  and  locked  the  door.  Ham- 
mersley rolled  over  on  the  bed  and  lay  for  a  long  while 
staring  at  the  wall.  The  day  was  fading  into  dusk. 
Five  o'clock,  it  might  be,  Hammersley  guessed.  Six 
hours  or  less  remained  to  him  in  which  to  act.  Six 
hours  in  which  he  must  lie  helpless  while  the  one  chance 
of  intercepting  the  messenger  from  Berlin  came  and 
passed.  He  lay  perfectly  still  as  he  had  fallen,  but 
his  spirit  writhed  in  agony. 

Doris  was  in  a  room  near  him,  likewise  a  prisoner, 
aware  of  the  fate  in  store  for  him  and  able  to  do 
nothing  but  wait  as  he  would  wait  until  the  shots  were 
fired  below  there  in  the  garden,  which  would  be  the 
end  of  all  things  for  him.  He  found  that  he  was  think- 
ing little  of  himself.  It  was  Doris  and  what  she  must 
be  suffering  that  occupied  the  moments  of  his  thoughts 

226 


' LINDBERG 

which  were  not  given  to  the  remote  chances  of  escape. 

His  bonds  were  tightly  drawn — a  rope  tied  with  Ger- 
man thoroughness.  He  moved  his  hands  behind  him 
and  tried  to  gain  a  little  room  for  his  present  ease. 
If  he  was  to  be  shot  tomorrow  morning  it  would  have 
seemed  indeed  a  small  charity  to  have  permitted  him  to 
pass  his  last  night  in  some  degree  of  comfort.  Could 
it  be  that,  after  all,  von  Stromberg  suspected  the  real 
object  of  his  return?  That  hardly  seemed  possible; 
for  his  informant  in  Berlin,  a  woman  close  to  those  in 
high  authority,  had  made  every  move  with  the  utmost 
discretion  and  his  own  relations  to  Lindberg  could  not 
possibly  be  suspected. 

Lindberg!  Hammersley  turned  and  looked  at  his 
guard  who  was  standing  motionless  by  the  window, 
gazing  out  at  the  fading  landscape.  Lindberg  was  his 
one,  his  last  desperate  hope.  Udo  von  Winden,  his 
cousin — It  was  too  much  to  hope  that  Udo  would  be 
of  service  to  him.  He  had  caught  a  glimpse  of  Udo's 
face  in  the  hallway  downstairs  when  von  Stromberg's 
orders  were  given.  He  had  gone  pale  and  stared  at 
him  in  pity  and  horror  as  Hammersley  had  gone  up 
the  stairs,  but  Hammersley  knew  that  the  ties  of  kin- 
ship, the  memories  of  their  boyhood  together,  were 
nothing  beside  the  iron  will  and  indomitable  authority 
of  the  great  man  who  had  condemned  him.  Udo  would 
suffer  when  Hammersley  died,  for  there  had  been  a 
time  when  the  two  had  been  much  to  each  other,  but 
he  would  do  his  duty,  however  painful,  as  a  small  unit 
of  the  relentless  machine  which  Hammersley  had  had 
the  temerity  to  oppose.  What  else  could  be  expected? 

A  word,  a  sign,  the  slightest  aid  to  such  a  prisoner, 
and  he  would  be  as  guilty  as  his  cousin.  Hammersley 
knew  that  he  did  Udo  no  injustice  in  supposing  that 

227 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


any  help  from  such  a  source  was  out  of  the  question. 
If  Udo  had  been  caught  in  England  as  Hammersley 
was  caught  in  Germany,  Hammersley  knew  that  he 
could  do  nothing  to  save  him. 

But  Lindberg!  Here  the  case  was  different.  It 
was  Lindberg  whose  life  Hammersley  had  saved  three 
years  ago  in  this  very  forest,  when  the  Forester  had 
stumbled  and  fallen  in  the  path  of  an  angry  boar  who 
would  have  gored  him  to  death,  if  Hammersley  had  not 
shot  the  beast.  Lindberg  the  Forester  it  was,  who,  in 
his  hours  off  duty,  had  been  Hammersley's  chosen  com- 
panion in  many  a  hunt  up  through  the  rocky  gorges 
of  these  very  mountains,  every  stick  and  stone  of  which 
he  knew  as  he  knew  his  own  rugged  face  in  the  mirror. 
It  was  Lindberg  who  had  been  so  useful  in  keeping 
him  informed  of  the  exact  state  of  affairs  at  Blaufel- 
den.  It  was  Lindberg  who  had  learned  of  the  micro- 
phone that  von  Stromberg  had  installed  and  it  was 
Lindberg  who  had  listened  at  the  receiver  upstairs  in 
von  Stromberg's  room  to  the  conversation  when  the 
Councilor  had  told  Captain  Wentz  the  nature  of  the 
documents  from  Berlin  and  the  hour  of  their  arrival. 

Already  Lindberg  had  repaid  a  hundredfold  the  debt 
of  Hammersley's  service  and  it  was  quite  possible,  now 
that  Hammersley's  actual  mission  had  been  discovered, 
that  he  would  take  to  cover,  his  mind  clear  in  the 
thought  that  he  had  done  all  that  could  be  expected 
of  him.  But  there  was  a  warm  affection  between  the 
two,  born  of  many  a  long  day  in  the  open  and  many  a 
night  by  the  campfire  where  the  old  man  had  taught 
him  the  Foresters'  secrets  of  the  trees,  the  birds  in 
their  branches  and  of  the  many  four-legged  things 
that  scurried  beneath  them.  They  had  often  talked, 
too,  of  many  other  things,  and  Hammersley  had 

228 


LINDBERG 

learned  that  Lindberg's  politics  were  those  that  one 
learns  under  the  open  sky — the  eternal  peace  of  Na- 
ture, before  which  war  and  men,  its  armed  instru- 
ments, were  a  blasphemy. 

Perhaps  Lindberg  would  find  a  way.  But  what  way? 
How?  Udo  von  Winden,  too,  was  aware  of  the  wood- 
craft fellowship,  for  often  he  had  made  their  duet  a 
trio.  Hammersley  knew  that  Udo  von  Winden  as  yet 
suspected  nothing  of  the  services  Lindberg  had  ren- 
dered him  and  he  wondered  whether  in  this  pass  the 
ties  of  kinship  would  be  strong  enough  to  keep  him 
silent  as  to  the  possible  capabilities  of  the  old  Forester 
for  mischief  in  Hammersley's  behalf. 

Hammersley  hoped.  He  clung  to  the  thought  of 
Lindberg's  fidelity  and  affection  as  a  dying  man  clings 
to  the  hope  of  Heaven.  He  tried  to  analyze  the  old 
man's  capacities  for  sympathy  and  courage.  To  help 
a  man  in  his  position  seemed  to  require  larger  stores 
of  both  of  these  qualities  than  human  clay  was  molded 
for.  Lindberg  did  not  fear  death,  he  knew,  but  the 
death  he  courted  was  the  kind  of  death  Hammersley 
had  saved  him  from,  a  good  death  in  a  fair  game  with 
a  noble  enemy,  not  the  kind  of  death  that  awaited 
Hammersley,  a  cold,  machine-made  death  against  a 
kitchen  wall.  And  he  must  know  as  Hammersley  knew 
that  this  was  what  would  follow. 

The  dusk  faded  into  dark  and  the  soldier  lit  a  candle. 
Hammersley  turned  his  head  and  examined  him  atten- 
tively. His  face  was  unfamiliar  at  Blaufelden,  one  of 
the  men  probably  sent  down  at  von  Stromberg's  orders 
from  the  upper  district  to  be  useful  in  just  this  emer- 
gency. Von  Stromberg  would  make  no  mistakes,  of 
course.  He  never  did  make  mistakes.  He  had  enough 
men  about  him  to  cope  with  the  situation  safely.  He 

229 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


would  leave  no  opportunity  for  his  plans  to  miscarry. 
Any  opportunity,  should  there  be  one,  must  be  created. 
Hammersley  managed  to  wriggle  into  a  sitting  posture 
on  the  bed  and  spoke  to  his  captor  in  German. 

"You  wouldn't  mind  my  having  a  smoke,  would 
you?"  he  asked. 

The  man  looked  at  him,  debating  the  matter. 

"Just  get  into  the  side  pocket  of  my  jacket  and 
fish  out  my  pipe  and  tobacco,  mein  junger.  I  need  a 
smoke  badly.  And  so  would  you  if  you  were  going 
to  be  shot  in  the  morning." 

"Ach,  wold.  I  see  no  harm  in  that,  mem  Herr. 
You  cannot  smoke  yourself  away." 

He  came  over,  brought  out  Hammersley's  short  pipe, 
filled  it  from  the  pouch  and  stuck  it  between  his  lips. 
Then  he  got  out  a  match  and  lighted  it  while  Ham- 
mersley puffed. 

"Ah!"  said  Hammersley  contentedly.  "You  are  a 
good  fellow.  Tomorrow  morning  I  will  give  you  my 
blessing." 

The  man  paced  stolidly  up  and  down  beside  the  bed. 

"I  am  sorry  for  you,  mein  Herr.  But  it  is  life.  It 
is  all  decided  for  us  beforehand.  We  are  here  a  mo- 
ment and  then  we  are  gone." 

Hammersley   smiled. 

"A  fatalist!  Then  perhaps  you  can  tell  me  if  there 
is  any  chance  of  my  escape." 

He  was   stopped  abruptly. 

"I  can  tell  you  that  there  is  not,"  he  said  severely. 

"I  would  have  said  as  much.  But  it  was  a  pardon- 
able curiosity,  nicht  wahr?" 

"Pardonable,  ja  wold,"  the  man  replied,  "but  most 
unseemly  under  the  circumstances." 

"You  have  a  deep  sense  of  your  responsibilities." 
230 


LINDBERG 


"Ja.  I  obey  my  orders,  that  is  all.  I  do  not  care 
what  others  do." 

"Therefore  you  will  shoot  me  tomorrow." 

"Perhaps,"  he  shrugged.  "I  am  but  an  instrument 
of  Providence."  He  waved  his  hand.  "But  I  talk  too 
I  much,  and  so  do  you.  It  is  not  seemly  in  a  soldier 
and  a  prisoner." 

Hammersley  laughed.  "You  have  a  fine  sense  of  the 
fitness  of  things." 

"Ja.     It  was  so  written." 

He  relapsed  into  silence  and  in  spite  of  efforts  on 
Hammersley's  part  refused  to  speak  further.  It  was 
only  after  Hammersley  badgered  him  for  his  unso- 
ciability  that  he  spoke  with  some  asperity. 

"I  will  trouble  you  to  be  quiet.  When  I  am  relieved, 
my  successor  may  let  you  speak  and  laugh  as  much 
as  you  please.  But  it  is  unnatural  in  a  man  at  the 
point  of  death.  It  would  be  better  if  you  were  saying 
your  prayers." 

"I  am  sure  that  you  are  right.  But  I  still  have  a 
few  hours.  Perhaps  you  wouldn't  mind  telling  me  the 
hour  at  which  you  are  to  be  relieved — the  hour  when 
we  are  both  of  us  to  be  relieved?" 

The  man  gazed  at  him  uncomprehendingly. 

"After  supper."  He  finished  indifferently,  "Eight 
,  o'clock,  perhaps." 

Hammersley  was  silent.  Two  hours  or  more  to  wait 
before  a  change  of  guards,  and  then  only  a  chance  that 
Lindberg  would  be  able  to  do  something.  Even  then 
if  he  managed  to  get  loose,  there  was  left  little  more 
than  an  hour  in  which  to  reach  the  road  by  which 
the  machine  would  come  from  Berlin,  and  even  then 
what  should  he  do  without  Doris?  His  case  was  des- 
perate. Only  a  miracle  it  seemed  could  make  a  success 

231 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


of  what  had  been  a  pitiful  failure;  only  an  act  of 
Providence  could  save  him  from  the  discreditable  end 
that  awaited  him. 

He  drew  up  his  knees  and  studied  the  knots  at  his 
ankles.  His  guardian  was  the  one  who  had  tied  them. 

"You  tie  a  good  square  knot,  my  friend.  You  were 
once  a  sailor?" 

But  nothing  would  induce  the  soldier  to  talk. 

As  the  supper  hour  approached,  Hammersley  could 
hear  the  rattle  of  pans  and  dishes  downstairs  and  no- 
ticed the  odor  of  coffee.  They  would  not  starve  him, 
of  course.  In  a  little  while  someone  would  come  with 
food.  After  a  while,  which  seemed  interminable,  the 
noise  of  the  rattling  dishes  ceased  and  there  was  a 
sound  at  the  door  into  the  hall  as  the  key  turned  in 
the  lock  and  Captain  Wentz  entered.  His  sturdy  back 
had  never  seemed  so  ugly  nor  so  welcome,  for  the 
silence  and  the  inaction  were  getting  on  Hammersley's 
nerves.  The  officer  came  over  to  the  bed  and  gravely 
examined  the  knots  of  the  rope  that  bound  the  pris- 
oner. Then,  satisfied  with  the  results  of  his  inspec- 
tion, he  straightened  and  glanced  around  the  room. 

"Gut,"  he  muttered.  And  then  to  the  soldier:  "You 
will  go  down  and  tell  Lindberg  to  bring  Herr  Ham- 
mersley's supper.  I  will  stay  here  in  the  meanwhile. 
You  will  then  relieve  the  man  at  the  door  of  his  Ex- 
cellenz." 

The  man  saluted  and  departed.  They  still  trusted 
Lindberg.  Then  Udo  had  suspected  nothing,  or  if  he 
had  suspected,  had  kept  his  thoughts  to  himself.  Ham- 
mersley lay  back  on  the  pillow  preparing  a  stolid  in- 
difference for  Lindberg's  entrance.  And  when  the  meal 
was  brought,  Wentz  untied  his  hands  and  stood  over 
him  with  an  automatic  while  he  ate. 


LINDBERG 


"Your  weapon  makes  a  poor  relish,  Herr  Haupt- 
mann,"  said  Hammersley  with  a  laugh. 

"I  greatly  regret  its  necessity,"  replied  Wentz  with 
his  machine-made  politeness. 

Hammersley  ventured  nothing  further,  eating  si- 
lently, and  with  a  surprising  appetite,  for  good  Lind- 
berg's  face  in  the  background  had  given  him  new 
courage.  When  the  meal  was  done,  he  asked  for  his 
pipe  again  and  Wentz  ordered  the  Forester  to  fill  it. 
Hammersley  inhaled  the  smoke  and  exhaled  a  sigh. 

"So  far  as  I  am  concerned,  Herr  Hauptmann,"  he 
said  with  a  smile,  "when  this  pipe  is  finished  you  may 
kill  me  at  once." 

He  extended  his  wrists  behind  him  in  silence  while 
Captain  Wentz  took  half  a  dozen  turns  of  the  rope 
and  made  it  fast.  Hammersley  sat  up  in  bed  puffing 
at  his  pipe  and  wondering  whether  some  miracle  might 
not  be  induced  that  would  kill  Wentz.  But  he  was 
quickly  disillusioned,  for  when  Lindberg  took  the 
dishes  and  moved  toward  the  door,  he  heard  Wentz's 
crisp  orders: 

"You  will  send  Max  Senf  to  take  the  first  night 
watch  upon  the  prisoner.  He  is  awaiting  my  orders 
in  the  guard  room.  Schnett" 

Without  even  a  glance  at  the  prisoner  Lindberg 
saluted  and  went  out  and  Hammersley's  spirits  fell. 
Help  from  Lindberg  was  impossible.  Von  Stromberg 
was  taking  every  precaution.  There  was  no  way  out 
of  it.  Hammersley  was  doomed.  But  while  Wentz 
was  in  the  room  he  kept  a  cheerful  countenance,  though 
for  the  first  time  in  his  life  that  he  could  remember 
his  pipe  was  acrid.  He  saw  the  new  guard  enter  and 
heard  the  last  orders  of  the  officer. 

"You  will  watch  until  one  o'clock  when  your  relief 
16  233 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


will  be  sent.  The  prisoner  is  to  be  allowed  no  privi- 
leges. Under  no  circumstances  are  his  hands  to  be 
untied.  If  he  wants  water,  you  will  give  it  to  him 
with  your  own  hands.  Verstehen  sie?" 

The  man  stood  erect  and  saluted.  "Zu  befehl,  Herr 
Hauptmann,"  he  said. 

Hammersley  saw  the  door  close  and  heard  the  key 
turn  in  the  lock  while  Senf  came  forward  into  the 
room  and  stood  by  the  foot  of  the  bed.  Hammersley 
studied  him  closely:  a  tall,  loosely  jointed  man  in  his 
early  thirties  with  the  heavy  brows  and  high  cheek- 
bones of  the  East  Prussian,  the  face  of  a  Slav,  almost, 
with  something  of  the  thoughtful  intensity  of  the  South 
German  mystic.  His  eyes  were  large,  his  nose  thin  and 
his  face  was  bearded,  but  the  lines  of  his  mouth  had 
a  sensitive  curve,  belied  by  the  big  bony  hands  and 
broad  shoulders.  A  sentimentalist,  perhaps ! 

Hammersley  determined  to  try  him,  for  a  plan  had 
been  forming  in  his  mind.  He  had  noticed  with  a 
glance  which  had  included  everything  in  the  room  when 
he  entered,  a  Bible  upon  the  mantelshelf,  and  in  a 
tone  which  had  in  it  a  solemn  sense  of  the  doom  which 
awaited  him  in  the  morning,  he  addressed  his  guardian 
quietly : 

"Senf,  you  have  a  kind  face.  There  is  a  small  favor 
that  you  may  do  me." 

"If  it  does  not  conflict  with  my  orders." 

"Not  at  all.  Tomorrow  morning  I  am  to  Be  shot. 
All  I  ask  is  that  you  will  allow  me  to  read  for  a  while 
the  Bible  upon  the  chimneypiece." 

"Ach!    I  see  no  harm  in  that." 

He  went  over  and  got  the  book,  opening  the  pages 
and  looking  through  them. 

"It  is  little  enough  for  a  dying  man  to  ask,"  he  said. 
234 


LINDBERG 


"Danke,"  said  Hammersley  quietly,  his  face  solemn 
but  his  mind  working  rapidly.  "It  is  but  right  to 
make  one's  peace  with  the  world  at  a  time  like 
this." 

"I  am  sorry,  mem  Herr,"  said  the  man  mournfully. 
"It  is  not  good  for  a  man  to  die  in  the  first  flush  of 
youth." 

"If  it  could  only  have  been  in  the  open,  Senf,  a 
soldier's  death,  but  this — Ach,  wohl — we  can  only  go 
once.  It  doesn't  matter."  He  gave  a  deep  sigh  and 
asked  his  guardian  to  light  his  pipe  again  and  open 
the  Book  at  the  Psalms  of  David. 

"I  cannot  turn  the  pages,  my  friend.  It  is  a  pity. 
But  propped  upon  one  elbow  I  can  see  quite  well  if 
you  will  but  put  the  candle  here  upon  the  bed." 

The  man  did  as  requested  and  Hammersley  thanked 
him. 

"You  are  a  kind  fellow.  It  is  bread  upon  the  waters* 
You  will  find  it  after  many  days." 

"It  is  nothing.  I  would  expect  as  much  from  an- 
other.5' 

"Now,  if  you  will  permit,  I  would  prefer  the  solitude 
of  my  thoughts." 

The  soldier  turned  slowly  away  and  Hammersley 
bent  his  gaze  upon  the  open  page,  but  he  did  not  read. 
He  was  thinking,  planning,  watching  the  movements 
of  Max  Senf.  Eight  o'clock  was  long  past.  It  must 
be  nearly  nine.  But  two  hours  remained  before  the 
arrival  of  the  messenger  from  Berlin.  His  guardian 
paced  slowly  up  and  down  the  room  between  the  door 
and  window,  and  Hammersley  felt,  if  he  did  not  see,  his 
deep  bovine  gaze  fixed  upon  him  from  time  to  time. 
Eight  or  ten  times  the  man  took  the  length  of  the  room 
and  then  with  a  deep  sigh  he  sank  into  the  chair  at  the 

235 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


foot  of  the  bed.  Hammersley  did  not  move  his  head, 
which  remained  bent  forward  over  the  book,  but  from 
the  tail  of  his  eye  he  noted  that  the  tall  footboard  of 
the  old-fashioned  bed  partially  concealed  him.  Propped 
up  as  he  was  he  could  see  the  man's  head  as  far  down  as 
the  tip  of  his  nose,  but  all  of  his  head  was  in  shadow. 
Arguing  from  this,  everything  upon  the  bed  below  the 
line  of  the  flame  of  the  candle  was  invisible  to  him. 
But  a  quick  glance  showed  Hammersley  that  the  man 
was  not  looking  at  him.  His  dark  eyes  were  peering 
straight  before  him  at  the  opposite  wall  and  his  mind 
was  wrapped  in  some  gloomy  vision. 

The  plan  he  had  in  mind  required  subtlety.  He 
marked  the  shadows  upon  the  ceiling  and  moved  up  in 
the  bed  so  that  his  own  shadow  would  be  thrown  be- 
hind the  line  of  sight  of  his  guardian.  Then  he  paused 
again,  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  pages,  waiting  for  Senf  to 
look  at  him  again.  He  heard  the  man  move  in  his 
chair,  which  creaked  as  he  settled  more  comfortably 
into  it.  And  when  Hammersley  looked  again,  only 
his  eyes  were  visible,  their  gaze  fixed  darkly  ahead  of 
him. 

Hammersley  now  puffed  a  volume  of  smoke  from  his 
pipe  and  slowly  wriggled  his  left  arm  forward  under 
him,  so  that  he  could  see  the  knot  that  tied  his  wrists. 
It  was  a  large  knot,  but  vulnerable.  He  puffed  more 
smoke,  meanwhile  watching  the  top  of  the  head  of 
Senf.  As  it  did  not  move,  he  lay  over  half  upon  his 
back,  and,  taking  care  not  to  disturb  the  book,  slowly 
advanced  his  arms  behind  him  toward  the  blaze  of  the 
candle.  The  knot  of  the  rope  caught  and  blazed,  but 
the  candle  sputtered,  and  he  quickly  withdrew  his 
hands,  sending  a  volume  of  smoke  from  his  pipe  to  neu- 
tralize the  odor.  Senf  sniffed  the  air  curiously. 

236 


LINDBERG 


"Something  is  burning,"  Hammer sley  heard  him 
mutter. 

"My  pipe,"  he  explained  carefully.  "It  is  a  vile  to- 
bacco. .  But  it  will  go  out  of  the  crack  at  the  win- 
dow." 

"Will  you  not  try  mine,  Herr  Hammersley?  Per- 
haps it  is  better." 

"No,  thanks.  Nothing  much  matters  to  a  dead 
man." 

His  guardian  settled  back  in  his  chair,  and  Ham- 
mersley repeated  his  maneuver  more  daringly,  his  own 
pipe  seething  like  a  furnace. 

"You  are  a  furious  smoker,  Herr  Hammersley," 
said  Senf  again. 

"It  is  the  way  one  smokes,  mem  Junger,  when  one 
smokes  for  the  last  time,"  he  replied. 

But  the  fellow  got  up,  sniffing  and  walking  around 
the  room. 

"It  is  a  most  curious  tobacco,"  he  muttered. 

Hammersley's  wrists  pained  him  where  his  bonds 
had  cut,  but  he  kept  his  gaze  upon  the  page  of  the 
book,  and  Senf  sat  in  his  chair  again.  A  strong  pull 
of  his  arms  and  Hammersley  felt  the  tension  relax. 
His  bonds  came  looser  and  after  a  few  more  efforts 
his  wrists  were  free.  His  heart  was  jumping  and  he 
feared  a  stray  glance  of  the  watcher  might  see  the 
throbbing  of  the  blood  at  his  temples,  but  he  clasped! 
his  hands  behind  him  and  waited,  slipping  the  sundered 
rope  beneath  a  fold  of  the  blanket. 

Two — three  minutes  passed  and  Senf  did  not  move. 
The  untying  of  his  feet  might  prove  a  difficult  matter, 
but  he  made  the  venture,  working  slowly  and  patiently, 
his  gaze  on  Senf's  head.  Then,  as  the  knot  yielded  a 
little  to  his  prying  fingers,  his  gaze  quickly  concen- 

237 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


trated  on  it.  In  his  efforts  he  must  have  made  a 
sound  or  a  suspicious  movement  of  the  shoulders,  for 
when  he  looked  up  he  saw  the  head  of  Max  Senf  pro- 
jecting above  the  tailboard  of  the  bed,  his  large  eyes 
protruding  with  amazement.  They  gazed  at  each  other 
for  a  tense  fraction  of  a  second  and  then  sprang  up- 
right. Hammersley  threw  his  feet  out  upon  the  floor 
and  leaped  for  the  man,  catching  him  around  the  waist 
so  that  he  could  not  draw  a  weapon.  His  legs  were 
useless  and  the  only  chance  he  had,  a  desperate  one  at 
best,  was  to  drag  the  man  to  the  floor  by  sheer  weight 
and  there  perhaps  throttle  him.  Senf  beat  with  his 
heavy  fists  on  Hammersley's  head  and  shoulders,  and 
finally  forced  him  backwards  upon  the  floor,  falling 
with  him,  but  Hammersley  still  clung  with  frantic 
grip  which  the  man  could  not  shake  off.  But  at  last 
he  managed  to  get  his  fingers  around  Hammersley's 
throat  and  tried  to  force  his  head  back. 

Hammersley  gasped  for  breath,  but  still  struggled 
gamely,  though  he  realized  that  he  had  played  his  last 
card.  Things  got  dark,  and  dimly  he  saw  the  door  ci 
the  room  open  and  someone  enter.  Wentz,  of  course. 
His  game  was  up. 

Senf  was  panting  heavily.  "He  burnt  the  rope," 
Hammersley  heard  him  say.  "Come  and  help  me.  He 
has  a  grip  of  iron." 

The  figure  from  the  door  moved  quickly  around  the 
squirming  figures,  and  Hammersley  saw  the  reflection 
of  the  candle  on  something  bright.  A  knife.  He 
heard  a  blow,  and  the  mass  of  struggling  flesh  above 
him  suddenly  collapsed  and  smothered  him  with  its 
weight.  With  an  effort  he  struggled  free  and 
rolled  aside,  looking  up  into  the  grim  face  of  Lind- 
berg. 

238 


LINDBERG 


"Sh — "  the  man  whispered.  "I  had  to  do  it. 
There  was  no  other  way.  I've  been  waiting  outside.*' 

Hammersley  tried  to  speak,  but  his  throat  closed, 
and  while  he  struggled  for  his  breath,  he  saw  Lind- 
berg  go  to  the  door  and  stand,  his  ear  to  the  keyhole, 
listening.  In  a  moment  he  came  back. 

"Ganz  gut!    They  have  heard  nothing." 

"Are  you  sure?"  Hammersley  managed  to  gasp,  as 
Lindberg  cut  the  rope  that  bound  his  ankles. 

"Yes.  He  was  so  sure  of  himself  that  he  did  not 
shout." 

He  helped  the  prisoner  to  his  feet  and  they  clasped 
hands. 

"Good  Lindberg !     My  friend !     I  had  given  up." 

"I  have  waited  until  the  beer  was  served.     It  is  well. 

And  now "     He  looked  around  the  room  quickly. 

"You  shall  go." 

Hammersley  had  a  sudden  thought. 

"Captain  von  Winden  sent  you?" 

"No.  He  knows  nothing.  But  he  has  not  spoken. 
It  is  now  after  nine  o'clock.  By  half  past  nine  you 
must  go." 

"Ja  doch!     But  you !" 

"I  shall  remain." 

"No,  no ;  I  will  not  consent  to  that." 

"Yes,  I  have  thought  out  a  plan."  / 

"But  they  will  suspect.     They  will  shoot  you." 

"No,  they  will  not.  Have  I  not  told  you  that  I 
have  thought  out  a  plan?" 

"I  will  listen  to  it." 

Lindberg  meanwhile  had  been  unstrapping  his  pistol 
holster  and  put  it  on  a  chair. 

Hammersley  glanced  over  his  shoulder  at  the  door. 
"But  they  may  come  again,"  he  whispered. 

239 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


"I  think  not.  There  is  little  time  to  lose.  We  will 
have  to  take  the  chance." 

"But  if  they  return  and  find  me  free  it  will  only 
cause  your  death  and  do  me  no  good." 

"Herr  Hammersley,  you  should  know  by  this  time 
that  I  do  not  waste  words.  Have  I  not  told  you  that 
I  have  made  a  plan?  Listen.  This  is  my  story  for 
Herr  Hauptmann  Wentz.  I  happen  to  be  in  the  hall- 
way without,  carrying  a  pitcher  of  water  to  the  room 
of  Miss  Mather — the  pitcher  is  outside  on  the  table — 
when  I  hear  the  sounds  of  a  commotion  in  this  room. 
Fearing  that  the  prisoner  has  by  some  miracle  gotten 
free,  I  unlock  the  door  with  my  pass-key  and  enter. 
You  have  burned  your  bonds  and  killed  Senf.  You 

spring  on  me  and  make  me  a  prisoner "  He 

paused. 

"And  you "  Hammersley  broke  in.  "You  will  be 

left  here?  No,  I  won't  leave  you — not  to  that  fate. 
I  will  not  go  unless  you  go  with  me.  We  will  contrive 
a  way  to  get  out  of  the  country." 

"Ach,  nem!  Will  you  not  listen?  Have  I  not  told 
you  that  I  have  thought  of  everything?  I  have  com- 
municated with  the  lady.  She  is  ready  to  go  with 
you.  Her  room  has  a  dormer  window  around  the  cor- 
ner of  the  building,  and  there  is  a  ledge  along  the  roof. 
You  will  go  to  her.  The  distance  to  the  roof  of  the 
,  kitchen  is  thirty  feet.  It  will  require  four  sheets, 
yours  and  hers.  They  are  new  ones  and  if  well  twisted 
will  hold.  If  you  get  away  safely  you  can  reach  the 
cave  in  the  Thorwald.  No  one  will  ever  find  you 
there " 

"Yes,  Lindberg — but  you — what  will  you  say  to 
them?" 

"It  is  no  time  to  waste  words.  Even  now  the  lady 
240 


LINDBERG 


is  waiting   for   you.      Come,  you  must  get   ready   at 
once." 

He  walked  to  the  bed  and  quickly  stripped  off  the 
blankets,  twisting  the  sheets  and  tying  them  together. 
Then  he  took  his  pistol  belt  and  fastened  it  around 
Hammersley's  waist,  slipping  a  handful  of  loose  car- 
tridges into  the  side  pocket  of  his  leather  jacket. 

Hammersley,  bewildered  by  the  devotion  of  his  old 
friend  and  tossed  between  alternatives  of  duty,  stood 
helplessly.  At  the  moment  when  he  needed  resolution 
most  he  was  supine.  But  Jie  minutes  were  passing. 
The  thought  of  his  mission  suddenly  brought  him  to 
life,  and  his  face  grew  hard,  his  eyes  brilliant  with 
purpose. 

"Come,  Lindberg.    You  must  go  with  me." 

"No,"  the  man  insisted.     "My  plan  is  the  best." 

"No.     You  must  come  with  me." 

"I  have  made  other  plans,  Herr  Hammersley,'*  he 
whispered  gently.  "You  will  go  alone.  I  will  give  you 
a  reason."  And  before  Hammersley  could  know  what 
he  meant  to  do,  he  drew  his  hunting-knife  from  its 
sheath  in  Hammersley's  belt  and  plunged  it  into  his 
own  shoulder. 

Hammersley  could  scarcely  restrain  a  cry,  but  Lind- 
berg smiled  at  him  and  plucking  the  weapon  out,  put 
it  in  Hammersley's  outstretched  hand. 

"It  is  nothing,"  he  said.  "It  will  bleed  a  little.  The 
more  it  bleeds  the  better  my  case  with  Excellenz. 
They  will  be  here  in  three  hours,  if  not  before.  Now 
bind  and  gag  me — quick.  There  is  no  time  to  lose." 

He  lay  flat  upon  the  floor  and  as  in  a  dream  Ham- 
mersley obeyed  him,  tying  his  arms  and  legs.  When 
he  had  finished,  Hammersley  bent  over  the  man  and 
touched  his  hand  gently. 

241 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


"Good-by,  old  friend.  Whatever  happens  I  will 
not  forget.  God  bless  you." 

There  was  a  bright,  keen  look  in  the  small  gray  eyes 
upturned  to  his. 

That  was  all  Hammersley  could  see  of  the  swathed 
head,  but  it  gave  him  a  new  idea  of  self-sacrifice. 


CHAPTER  XVHI 

SUCCESS 

HAMMERSLEY'S  first  act  was  to  take  off  his 
shoes  and  slip  one  into  each  pocket  of  his 
jacket.  They  were  soled  with  rubber,  but 
even  that  he  feared  would  make  a  sound.  Then  he  put 
the  box  of  matches  in  his  pocket  and  blew  out  the  can- 
dle, overturning  it  on  the  floor.  The  shutters  of  the 
window  were  closed,  and  if  they  were  opened  carefully 
the  man  in  the  garden  below  might  not  notice  any 
change  in  the  appearance  of  the  window.  Hammersley 
buttoned  his  jacket  and,  carefully  pushing  back  the 
shutter,  peered  out.  Fortunately  the  night  had  fallen 
darkly,  and  overhead  black  clouds  were  lowering,  and 
while  he  hesitated,  searching  the  paths  below  for  the 
figure  of  the  guard,  there  was  a  patter  of  rain  upon 
the  roof.  The  gods  were  propitious. 

At  last  he  made  out  a  dark  bulk  moving  to  and  fro 
along  the  garden  path  toward  the  toolhouse.  Ham- 
mersley watched,  waiting  until  the  man's  back  was 
i  turned,  when  he  opened  the  shutter  wider  and  threw 
i  the  rope  of  sheets  out  upon  the  ledge.  Closing  the 
shutter  again,  he  came  toward  the  house.  So  far  so 
good,  for  the  whiteness  of  the  sheets  would  have  been 
plainly  visible  had  the  guard  been  looking.  The  next 
stage  of  his  escape  was  more  difficult,  and  he  let  the 
fellow  go  and  come  twice  along  his  path  as  he  timed  his 
new  move.  He  tried  the  shutter  carefully  to  see  that 
it  did  not  creak  and  measured  with  his  eye  the  distance 

243 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


to  the  living-room  chimney,  which  he  must  reach,  dur- 
ing the  twenty  paces  the  soldier  would  take  toward 
the  toolhouse.  A  wind  was  blowing  in  the  treetops 
and  somewhere  below  him  a  young  oak  was  rustling 
its  last  year's  leaves.  The  shutter  fortunately  opened 
in  the  direction  in  which  he  must  go,  so  he  sat  upon 
the  window-sill,  doubled  up,  and  when  the  time  came, 
without  looking  again  at  the  guard,  moved  quickly, 
slipping  out  noiselessly,  closing  the  shutter  behind  him 
and,  gathering  up  the  sheet  as  he  went,  crept  like  a 
cat  on  a  wall  along  the  narrow  ledge.  It  creaked  with 
his  weight,  and  some  small  object  that  his  foot  bad 
touched  grated  along  the  roof  and  fell  to  the  ground 
below.  A  tiny  sound  at  best,  but  magnified  in  Ham- 
mersley's  ears  a  hundred  times.  He  had  reached  the 
wide  chimney  and  waited  above  it,  listening  for  the 
footsteps  of  the  man  below. 

There  was  no  sound.  The  man  had  stopped  walk- 
ing. Hammersley  did  not  dare  look  out  from  his  hid- 
ing-place, but  he  knew  that  in  that  moment  his  fate 
was  hanging  in  a  balance.  Just  then  a  heavier  gust 
of  wind  than  usual  dislodged  a  broken  branch  from  a 
tree  nearby,  which  fell  to  the  ground.  Still  the  man 
below  did  not  move  and  Hammersley  blessed  his  wis- 
dom in  closing  the  shutter,  for  he  knew  that  the  guard 
must  be  peering  upward,  searching  for  a  sign  of  any- 
thing unsual  in  its  appearance. 

Hammersley  held  his  breath,  straining  his  ears  for 
the  sound  that  would  tell  him  that  he  had  not  failed. 
In  a  while,  which  seemed  interminable,  it  began  again, 
the  slow  crunch  of  gravel  under  a  heavy  foot — ceased, 
and  began  again,  as  though  uncertainly,  so  he  waited 
until  the  sounds  were  regular  as  before,  then  advanc- 
ing his  head  cautiously,  he  waited  for  the  proper  time, 


and  keeping  the  chimney  between  himself  and  the  gar- 
den, ran  straight  up  the  roof  to  the  gable  and 
crouched  quickly  upon  the  other  side.  He  was  more 
fortunate  this  time  for  the  roof  gave  forth  no  sound. 

Once  beyond  the  protection  of  the  gables  he  could 
for  the  moment  disregard  the  danger  of  the  guard,  for 
his  orders  had  been  to  watch  but  one  window,  and 
Hammersley  knew  enough  of  the  German  character  to 
be  sure  that  the  soldier  below  would  not  leave  that 
side  of  the  house.  As  he  slid  carefully  down  the  roof 
upon  the  other  side,  he  saw  that  there  were  two  dor- 
mers, and  for  a  moment  could  not  think  which  of  them 
let  into  the  room  in  which  Doris  was  imprisoned.  He 
reached  the  ledge  and  paused.  The  shutters  of  both 
windows  were  closed.  Lindberg  had  told  him  this, 
but  he  swore  mildly  to  himself  because  he  hadn't  paid 
closer  attention  to  the  Forester's  instructions,  for  while 
one  of  the  rooms  was  Doris's,  the  other  he  knew  was 
to  be  occupied  by  John  RLzzio.  It  was  while  he  hesi- 
tated that  he  heard  a  whisper  at  his  left,  and  crawling 
along  the  ledge,  in  a  moment  had  reached  the  window. 

"Is  it  you,  Cyril?"  he  heard. 

"Yes,"  he  whispered.     <fLet  me  in." 

Lindberg  had  opened  the  shutter  in  the  afternoon, 
but  it  was  still  stubborn,  and  when  Cyril  put  his 
strength  to  Doris's,  it  creaked  abominably.  It  was  not 
really  a  loud  noise,  but  to  the  sensitive  ears  of  the 
fugitives  it  seemed  as  if  discovery  must  be  inevitable. 
At  last  they  managed  to  open  it  wide  enough  to  admit 
Cyril's  long  legs  and  his  body  speedily  followed.  In- 
side the  room  they  stood,  their  hands  clasped,  fearful 
of  discovery,  listening  for  sounds  without  or  within 
which  would  tell  them  of  the  approach  of  the  dreaded 
Wentz.  Nothing  but  the  sighing  of  the  wind  in  the 

245 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


treetops   and  the  patter  of   the   rain.      As   hope   re- 
turned, Hammersley  questioned  quickly: 

"You  are  ready  to  go?" 

"Yes,"  she  replied  eagerly. 

"The  sheets?" 

"Here.     I  have  prepared." 

It  was  dark  and  he  could  not  see,  but  he  followed 
the  sheet  to  its  end  with  his  hand  and  found  that  it 
was  fastened  to  the  bedpost.  How  she  had  managed 
to  move  the  heavy  bed  across  the  room  he  did  not 
know,  and  it  was  unnecessary  to  question,  for  there  it 
was.  He  reassured  himself  as  to  the  knot  that  she  had 
made  and  then  fastened  his  own  sheets  to  the  other 
end. 

"Do  you  think  you  can  manage  it  alone?  It  will 
not  hold  us  both." 

"Try  me,"  she  whispered  bravely. 

"The  rope  will  reach  almost  to  the  kitchen  roof." 

"Yes,  it  is  just  below.  I  could  see  the  edge  of  it 
through  the  shutter  this  afternoon." 

He  caught  her  in  his  arms  and  their  lips  met. 

"I  will  go  first.  Then  when  the  tension  relaxes,  you 
follow." 

She  pressed  his  hand  as  he  slid  his  feet  out  of  the 
window  and  paused  crouching  on  the  ledge  listening. 
Then  he  waved  his  hand  and  slowly  went  down.  He 
knew  that  the  angle  of  the  building  quite  hid  him  frorn^ 
the  garden  path,  and  he  slid  down  the  improvised  rope 
as  quickly  as  he  could  until  his  feet  dangled  in  space. 
He  looked  below  him,  but  in  the  darkness  the  distance 
was  uncertain.  Had  Lindberg  miscalculated?  Or  had 
Doris  used  too  much  of  the  sheet  at  the  upper  end? 
He  let  himself  down  until  his  hands  groped  the  end 
of  the  sheet  while  he  felt  for  a  landing  with  his  toes. 

246 


SUCCESS 


He  touched  nothing,  and  still  swayed  and  spun  in  the 
air  like  an  apple  on  a  string  at  All  Hallowe'en,  a  fine 
mark  for  an  automatic  from  any  of  the  windows  that 
stared  blankly  at  him  from  the  second  story.  There 
was  nothing  for  it  but  to  drop,  stretching  his  toes 
|  down  to  meet  the  impact.  Fortunately  it  was  not  far, 
but  he  lost  his  balance  and  toppled  sideways,  catching 
himself  upon  an  arm  and  knee.  Here  again  the  wind 
saved  him  from  discovery,  but  he  drew  his  weapon 
and  kept  a  look  on  the  corner  of  the  garden,  mean- 
while watching  for  Doris. 

She  came  at  once,  slowly  but  fearlessly,  and  in  a 
moment  he  had  her  safely  in  his  arms,  drawing  her 
back  near  the  bulk  of  the  building  to  crouch  and  wait 
and  listen  again.  They  did  not  dare  to  speak,  but 
Hammersley's  blood  was  surging  madly  with  hope. 
If  they  had  not  been  discovered  now,  the  chances  were 
that  some  time  would  elapse,  enough  at  least  to  en- 
able the  fugitives  to  get  a  good  start  of  their  pur- 
suers. But  the  dangling  sheet  warned  Hammersley 
that  they  must  move  quickly.  He  peered  over  the 
edge  of  the  roof.  A  light  was  burning  in  the  kitchen, 
but  whether  the  room  was  occupied  or  not,  he  could 
not  tell.  He  did  not  dare  risk  a  sprained  ankle  by 
jumping,  but  found  that  by  lowering  himself  he  could 
easily  reach  the  fuel  box  that  stood  near  the  kitchen 
door.  In  a  moment  they  were  on  the  ground  and 
moving  along  in  the  shelter  of  the  hedge  toward  the 
hangar. 

Hammersley  exulted.  It  iras  something  to  have 
brought  Doris  away,  but  it  was  something  more  to 
have  circumvented  von  Stromberg.  The  bundled  figure 
of  Lindberg,  lying  up  there  bleeding  in  the  dark,  shot 
a  pain  through  his  heart,  but  in  action,  moving  toward 

247 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


the  goal  of  his  hopes,  even  Lindberg  was  put  behind 
him.  He  had  no  fear  for  the  wound  in  Lindberg's 
shoulder.  The  old  man  was  as  tough  as  a  pine  knot 
and  would  survive  the  loss  of  blood.  It  was  Lind- 
berg's ordeal  with  von  Stromberg  that  bothered  him. 

When  they  reached  the  shelter  of  the  woods  the  ten- 
sion relaxed. 

"We're  going  to  get  off,  Doris,"  he  said  joyously. 
"I  know  every  stick  of  these  woods,  and  they  can 
never  find  us.  But  I'm  afraid  the  strain  has  been  too 
much  for  you.  How  are  you  feeling?" 

"Never  better,"  she  said  bravely.  "Which  way 
now?" 

Hammersley  had  paused  a  moment  to  slip  on  his 
shoes,  and  as  he  got  to  his  feet, 

"Follow  me,"  he  said.  "If  I  go  too  fast  for  you, 
let  me  know." 

He  cut  into  the  woods  and  presently  struck  a  path 
which  led  to  the  left,  and  for  a  while  they  followed 
this  rapidly.  Thanks  to  a  fine  physique  and  a  vigor- 
ous life  out-of-doors,  the  girl  was  in  good  condition, 
and  though  breathing  hard  upon  the  slopes,  made  no 
murmur.  Hammersley  knew  that  he  had  little  time  to 
spare,  and  Doris  followed  blindly,  asking  no  questions. 
She  was  aware  from  what  Cyril  had  said  in  the  after- 
noon that  his  objective  in  coming  to  Germany  was  now 
within  reach,  and  she  could  only  judge  of  its  impor- 
tance to  England  by  the  desperate  chances  he  had 
taken.  When  it  was  time  that  she  should  know  he 
would  tell  her.  She  judged  that  Cyril  knew  that  she 
had  been  tricked  into  betraying  him,  and  she  made 
up  her  mind  that,  whatever  happened  now,  she  would 
stay  with  him  until  the  end.  She  owed  him  that. 

After  a  while,  when  they  had  been  moving  for  per- 
248 


SUCCESS 


haps  twenty  minutes,  they  reached  an  opening  in  the 
trees  where  she  could  see  gray  patches  of  sky  through 
the  branches  overhead,  and  her  feet  emerging  from 
the  dry  leaves  and  moss  felt  a  firmer  contact. 

"The  Schondorf  road,"  he  said.  "We  can  follow 
it  side  by  side.  Are  you  tired?" 

"No." 

They  went  on  more  rapidly,  while  Hammersley  ex- 
plained : 

"The  documents  I  came  to  Germany  for  are  to  be 
brought  along  this  road  tonight  in  an  automobile. 
The  hour  they  are  due  to  reach  Blaufelden  is  eleven, 
and  if  I  know  anything  of  the  infallibility  of  the  Ger- 
man secret  messenger,  they  will  be  here  on  time.  It 
is  now  after  ten.  I  have  an  hour  or  less  to  make  my; 
preparations." 

"What  are  you  going  to  do?"  she  asked. 

"Get  them.  First,  I'm  going  to  take  you  to  a  spot 
where  you  will  be  as  safe  as  if  you  were  at  home  in 
Ashwater  Park." 

"No,"  she  said  firmly,  "I'm  going  with  you." 

"But  that's  impossible.  I  don't  know  what  may 
happen.  My  plans  are  of  the  vaguest " 

"I  will  share  them.  No,  you  sha'n't  refuse  me.  I 
will  follow  you.  I  can  help.  I  must.  I  would  die 
in  those  roads  alone.  Don't  you  understand?" 

"But  if  I  fail  and  they  take  you,  you  will  be  as 
guilty  as  I.  It's  an  act  of  war,  Doris." 

"Then  all  the  more  reason  why  I  should  be  commit- 
ted to  it.  They  made  war  on  me." 

"But  there  will  be  danger.  I  can't  let  you  take 
the  risk." 

"I  don't  know  how  you  are  going  to  stop  me,"  she 
said  defiantly. 

17  249 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


He  paused,  then  stopped  and  caught  her  by  the 
elbows,  peering  down  into  her  eyes.  Then  he  laughed. 

"Mated!"  he  cried.  "This  is  the  greatest  moment 
of  my  life." 

"And  mine,"  her  voice  answered  him. 

Her  lips  met  his  in  a  quick  caress,  like  those  the 
•wives  of  the  Spartans  gave  when  they  sent  their  men 
to  battle. 

He  caught  her  hand  in  his  and  they  moved  forward 
more  quickly.  Along  this  path  Death  was  riding 
toward  them,  but  they  strode  eagerly  to  meet  it,  to 
defy  it,  to  defeat  it.  Cyril  planned  rapidly,  casting 
anxious  glances  along  the  road  behind  them.  Every 
foot  they  traveled  took  them  further  from  pursuers, 
if  pursuers  there  were.  Every  foot  they  traveled  took 
them  nearer  the  advancing  messenger.  So  that  the 
farther  they  went  the  longer  would  be  the  while  before 
they  were  overtaken,  but  the  shorter  the  time  for  prep- 
aration to  stop  the  automobile.  Murder  was  not  in 
Hammersley's  line.  They  passed  many  places,  diffi- 
cult spots  in  the  road  where  the  machine  must  almost 
stop  and  go  into  low  gear  to  climb  declivities,  places 
where  projecting  rocks  jutted  rough  faces  up  to  the 
very  ruts  of  the  road.  It  would  not  be  difficult  to 
kill  with  an  automatic  at  a  distance  of  two  paces,  but 
Hammersley  could  not  play  the  game  that  way.  He 
was  a  spy,  if  the  laws  of  war  called  him  so,  but  he 
would  not,  even  in  this  extremity,  use  the  spy's  weap- 
ons. If  the  other  man  fought,  it  would  be  different. 
The  desperate  nature  of  the  undertaking  was  begin- 
ning to  come  to  him.  Two  men,  perhaps  three  or  even 
four!  And  yet  he  must  win.  He  must.  Slowly  but 
surely  a  plan  was  forming  and  he  made  up  his  mind 
to  put  it  into  practice. 


SUCCESS 


"Not  tired  yet?"  he  asked. 

"No.     I  could  go  on  forever." 

"Then  listen.  We  are  nearing  the  Thorwald.  It 
is  just  beyond  here,  less  than  half  a  mile  away." 

"The  Thorwald?" 

"It's  a  favorite  place  of  mine,  known  only  to  Lind- 
berg  and  Udo,  a  cave  high  up  in  the  rocks,  safe  as  a 
church,  unless  Udo  happens  to  hunt  for  us  there." 

"And  will  he?" 

"I  hope  not.  At  the  foot  of  the  crags  this  road 
runs.  We  must  get  there  first.  Can  you  run?" 

"I'll  try." 

He  gave  her  his  hand  again,  and  they  settled  into 
a  jog  trot.  She  was  breathing  fast  in  a  moment,  but 
she  was  game  and  did  not  falter,  though  her  lungs 
seemed  to  be  bursting.  But  as  they  neared  the  spot, 
Cyril  slowed  down  to  a  walk  again. 

"At  the  foot  of  the  glen  there's  a  dry  bed  of  a 
stream  full  of  rocks.  There  used  to  be  a  bridge  here, 
but  it  was  washed  away.  It's  an  awkward  spot,  even 
for  a  good  motor.  I'm  going  to  make  it  worse." 

He  left  her,  dashing  on  ahead,  while  she  followed, 
and  when  she  reached  the  stream  she  saw  him  drag- 
ging one  of  the  bridge  timbers  across  the  road.  She 
wanted  to  help,  but  he  told  her  to  watch,  until  he  got 
another  and  then  another  timber  into  place.  And  in 
another  moment  it  was  evident  that  the  barricade  was 
formidable  enough  to  deter  any  machine  from  cross- 
ing. And  there  was  no  way  to  go  around,  for  upon 
one  side  rose  the  crags  and  upon  the  other  the  gully 
fell  away  into  a  dark  pit  filled  with  rocks  and  tangled 
branches. 

There  was  nothing  for  it  now  but  to  wait.  And 
yet  it  seemed  a  desperate  thing  to  do.  Weary  and 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


blown  as  Doris  was,  it  would  have  seemed  better  to 
have  gone  on  and  on — anything  to  put  distance  be- 
tween Cyril  and  the  death  that  surely  awaited  them 
back  there.  It  seemed  impossible  that  so  long  a  time 
as  this  could  have  elapsed  before  the  tell-tale  rope 
of  sheets  should  have  been  discovered.  Already  she 
was  sure  that  Wentz  and  his  men  must  be  on  the 
way  in  a  machine  or  on  horses,  perhaps  which  would 
cover  the  distance  they  had  traveled  in  less  than  a 
quarter  of  the  time.  She  thought  that  she  heard  the 
sound  of  a  machine  in  the  distance  and  the  voices  of 
men.  She  pleaded  with  him  to  go  on,  but  he  only 
smiled  at  her. 

"You  must  do  what  I  say,  Doris,"  he  said,  and  then 
paused,  listening.  "They're  coming,"  he  whispered. 

She  had  heard  the  sound  of  a  machine.  "From 
which  direction?"  she  gasped. 

"There,"  and  he  pointed  across  the  gully. 

"They'll  be  here  in  a  moment.  Listen  to  me!  Walk 
quickly  to  your  right,  across  the  road  to  that  large 
stone.  Stop !"  She  obeyed  wonderingly.  "Now  cross 
the  road  again,  using  those  rocks  as  stepping  stones." 
She  did  it,  bewildered,  pausing  on  a  ledge  of  rocks 
that  formed  a  part  of  the  crag.  "Now  follow  the  line 
of  the  rocks  into  the  bushes.  Fifty  feet  from  the 
road,  hidden  among  the  shrubbery,  you'll  find  a  cleft 
in  the  rocks.  Climb  it  and  you'll  come  out  here,"  and 
he  pointed  upward  just  above  the  road.  "Wait  for 
me  there.  I'll  come  in  a  moment." 

And  as  she  hesitated,  he  caught  her  by  the  elbows 
and  shoved  her  along  the  ledge  backwards.  "Go !  Do 
you  hear?  I'll  have  no  refusal." 

There  was  no  denying  the  accent  of  command  in  his 
yoice  or  the  quick  flash  of  his  eye.  Never  until  von 


SUCCESS 


Stromberg  had  badgered  her  today  had  a  man  spoken 
to  her  in  this  tone  before.  But  she  loved  him  for  it, 
rejoiced  in  his  strength — the  primitive  instinct  of 
woman  to  obey. 

When  she  had  gone,  Hammersley  quickly  crossed 
the  stream  and  took  a  position  behind  a  thick  bush, 
listening  to  the  exhaust  of  the  approaching  machine, 
but  listening  and  looking,  too,  in  the  opposite  direction 
for  sounds  of  his  pursuers.  A  searchlight  made  fan- 
tastic shapes  among  the  leaves  and  long  shadows  sud- 
denly shot  out  along  the  road. 

Hammersley  had  drawn  his  automatic  from  his 
pocket  and  was  fingering  it  coolly.  He  put  his  fin- 
gers over  his  eyes,  so  that  the  light  would  not  mar 
his  familiarity  with  the  darkness.  He  did  not  know; 
how  many  men  opposed  him  and  did  not  seem  to  care. 
The  main  thing  now  was  to  keep  his  eye  undimmed  and 
his  hand  steady.  The  machine  came,  slowed  down  and 
stopped  while  a  guttural  exclamation  came  from  the 
driver.  The  searchlight  focused  downward  into  the 
rocks  of  the  gully.  Screening  his  eyes  from  its  light 
with  a  hand,  Hammersley  peered  out  at  the  occupants 
of  the  car.  There  were  two  men — better  than  three, 
but  not  so  good  as  one.  The  man  at  the  wheel  rose 
and  got  down  just  beside  him,  moving  forward  to  re- 
move the  obstacles. 

Hammersley  wasted  no  time.  He  leveled  his  auto- 
matic at  the  broad  back  of  the  driver  and  his  voice 
rang  sharply  in  German: 

"I  have  come  here  for  the  dispatches  intended  for 
Herr  General  von  Stromberg.  You  will  give  them  to 
me  at  once." 

The  man  who  was  just  bending  over  toward  the  tim- 
ber straightened  quickly  and  turned,  reaching  for  his 

253 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


holster,  but  the  man  in  the  seat  of  the  car,  who  wore 
a  military  cap,  was  quicker,  for  there  was  a  report, 
and  a  bullet  sang  close  to  Hammersley's  ear. 

A  stream  of  fire  came  from  Hammersley's  auto- 
matic ;  three  shots  in  quick  succession,  and  the  man  in 
the  car  pitched  forward  in  his  seat  and  slid  to  the 
floor.  And  by  the  time  the  other  man  had  drawn  his 
pistol,  Hammersley  had  leaped  behind  a  tree  and  came 
out  of  some  bushes  beyond.  The  chauffeur  fired,  but 
not  in  Hammersley's  direction.  The  continuous  glare 
of  the  light  in  their  eyes  had  made  their  vision  in  the 
darkness  uncertain. 

"Do  you  surrender?"  shouted  Hammersley. 

The  German's  reply  was  to  fire  at  him  again  and 
miss.  He  still  stood  in  the  reflection  of  the  headlight, 
a  bulky  silhouette,  which  made  too  fair  a  mark,  while 
Hammersley  stood  in  the  shadows  of  the  bushes. 
Hammersley  pitied  him. 

"Surrender!"  he  repeated. 

The  man  was  not  a  coward  and  rushed  blindly 
toward  the  voice,  shooting  again,  too  close  for  com- 
fort. 

"Well,  then "  Hammersley  said,  and  fired  again. 

The  man  stumbled  to  his  knees  and  then  fell  prone, 
his  fingers  clutching  among  the  leaves.  The  whole  in- 
cident had  taken  less  than  a  minute,  and  a  deathly 
silence  seemed  to  fall,  following  the  reverberations  of 
the  shots.  Hammersley  stood  tensely,  listening  and 
peering  along  the  road  toward  Blaufelden.  There  was 
a  glow  of  light  at  a  distance  and  he  could  now  hear 
the  sound  of  another  machine.  Von  Stromberg  had 
learned  of  his  escape  and  with  a  perfect  intuition  was 
coming  here  directly  and  fast.  The  sound  of  the  shots 
had  been  heard.  There  was  no  time  to  lose.  Ham~ 

254 


SUCCESS 


mersley  bent  over  the  man  on  the  ground  and  searched 
his  pockets  rapidly.  Gloves,  matches,  a  spark  plug, 
tobacco,  but  no  papers.  The  chauffeur,  of  course. 
By  main  strength  he  lifted  the  dead  weight  of  the 
man  in  the  car  and  carried  him  down  into  the  glare  of 
the  searchlight.  It  was  a  dangerous  thing  to  do,  for 
the  lights  of  the  machine  from  Blaufelden  were  already 
swinging  through  the  treetrunks.  But  he  worked 
quickly  and  skillfully,  tearing  open  the  officer's  gray 
overcoat  and  searching  his  pockets.  In  the  inside 
pocket  of  his  uniform  he  found  them,  a  bulky  pack- 
age, and  other  papers.  He  read  the  superscription 
quickly,  "Sein  Excellenz  General  Graf  von  Stromberg." 
Then  sprang  aside  out  of  the  glare  of  the  lights  at 
the  very  moment  when  the  other  machine  came  swing- 
ing rapidly  around  the  turn  in  the  road. 

"The  papers  are  safe?"  roared  a  voice  which  Ham- 
mersley  recognized. 

"Ja,"  Hammersley  replied  in  a  rough  tone.  "A 
man  tried  to  stop  me  and  I  shot  him." 

"Ganz  gut!" 

"He  is  here,"  shouted  Hammersley  again. 

All  the  while  he  had  been  moving  out  of  the  glare 
of  the  searchlights,  and  as  the  men  from  the  other  car 
tumbled  out  and  came  forward,  he  turned  into  the 
darkness,  and  abandoning  all  caution,  took  to  his  heels 
and  ran  at  top  speed  in  the  opposite  direction. 

Behind  him  he  heard  shouts  as  his  trick  was  discov- 
ered, but  he  knew  that  in  the  matter  of  speed  he  had 
nothing  to  fear  afoot  from  any  German  at  Winden- 
berg.  The  thing  that  bothered  him  now  was  a  way  to 
hide  the  marks  of  his  footsteps,  for  in  places  the 
mud  was  soft  and  he  knew  that  in  the  morning 
light  they  would  follow  him;  so  he  picked  his  way 

255 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


carefully,  running  at  top  speed  for  a  mile  at  least,  to 
lead  the  pursuit  away  from  the  Thorwald  and  then 
at  the  banks  of  a  small  stream  paused  a  moment  and 
listened.  He  had  eluded  them.  Then  without  hesi- 
tation, though  puffing  fearfully  from  his  exertions,  he 
stepped  down  into  the  cold  waters  of  the  stream  and 
waded  up  it,  avoiding  the  ledges  and  making  sure 
that  he  left  no  mark  behind  him.  As  he  climbed 
higher  up  the  mountain,  he  could  see  in  the  distance 
the  glow  of  the  lights  of  the  machines  and  when  he 
reached  a  mossy  bank  which  would  not  betray  him, 
he  clambered  out  of  the  water  and  turned,  doubling 
like  a  fox,  upon  his  trail,  turning  back  in  the  general 
direction  from  which  he  had  come. 

Doris  worried  him.  He  could  imagine  her  crouch- 
ing there  two  hundred  feet  in  the  air  just  above  the  two 
machines,  half  dead  with  fear  of  capture  and  terror 
for  him.  Had  she  seen  what  had  happened  and  un- 
derstood it?  Would  she  have  the  kind  of  silent  en- 
durance to  crouch  there  and  wait?  He  hurried  on 
into  the  maze  of  rocks  and  deep  woods,  finding  at  last  a 
deer  trail  that  he  knew.  There  were  but  two  means 
of  ingress  to  the  cave  of  the  Thorwald,  one  by  the 
secret  path  in  the  bushes  up  the  rocks  which  Doris 
had  taken,  the  other  from  the  upper  side  which  he 
was  now  rapidly  approaching. 

He  ran  along  the  deer  trail,  reloading  his  auto- 
matic as  he  went,  his  eyes  peering  ahead  for  fa- 
miliar landmarks,  cutting  in  at  last  to  the  left  at  a 
great  rock  around  which  the  deer  trail  led.  He  now 
proceeded  with  great  caution.  Far  below  him  he  could 
see  the  reflections  of  the  lights  of  the  two  cars  and 
heard  the  voices  of  men.  He  went  down  a  way  toward 
the  wall  of  rocks,  clambering  over  huge  bowlders,  haul- 

256 


SUCCESS 


ing  himself  here  and  there  by  the  aid  of  tree  limbs, 
reaching  at  last  the  dry  bed  of  the  old  stream  which 
down  in  the  road  had  been  of  such  assistance  to  him. 

Now  the  wall  of  rock  rose  sheer  before  him.  He 
stole  cautiously  along  its  face,  feeling  with  his  hands 
and  peering  upward.  In  a  moment  he  found  what  he 
was  looking  for,  a  small  projecting  ledge  which  he 
mounted,  and  followed  to  his  right  for  a  way,  then 
mounting  again  by  easy  stages  to  a  fissure  wider  than 
his  body  which  he  entered  and  followed  quickly.  It 
led  downward  it  seemed  into  the  bowels  of  the  crag, 
but  came  out  suddenly  into  an  open  space,  a  kind  of 
amphitheater,  with  a  ridge  of  rock  upon  one  side,  and 
upon  the  other  what  appeared  to  be  a  solid  wall.  He 
crossed  this  space  quickly  and  peered  over. 

Below  him  the  crag  jutted  out  over  the  road  and 
upon  it  somewhere  was  Doris.  He  strained  his  gaze 
downward  but  could  not  see  her.  What  if  they  had 
found  her  footsteps  and  followed?  No,  that  was 
hardly  possible,  for  the  ridge  of  rock  began  imme- 
diately at  the  road,  and  thanks  to  his  precautions,  she 
would  leave  no  footprints. 

Slowly  he  descended,  choosing  his  footing  with  quick 
deliberation,  for  the  slightest  sound,  the  dislodging 
of  a  twig  or  a  sliver  of  crumbled  stone  and  the  crag  of 
the  Thorwald  would  become  in  a  moment  a  hornet's 
nest.  Fortunately  the  back  of  the  rock  screened  him 
from  the  road,  and  unless  von  Stromberg  had  sent  men 
into  the  woods  to  left  and  right,  there  was  no  chance 
of  discovery.  At  last  he  reached  the  level  and  a  dark 
shadow  rose  at  his  very  feet  and  silently  clasped  his 
hand.  He  took  her  in  his  arms  for  a  moment  in  de- 
vout thankfulness.  If  the  true  moment  of  their  mat- 
ing had  been  back  there  in  the  road  while  danger 

257 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


threatened  them  before  and  behind,  this  place  of  se- 
curity was  the  beginning  of  its  consummation.  He  did 
not  speak  and  only  motioned  her  to  sit  while  he. 
crouched  beside  her,  waiting. 

Below  in  the  road  he  heard  the  rasping  voice  of 
His  Excellenz,  speaking  in  no  gentle  tones  to  the 
wounded  chauffeur  of  the  messenger's  machine,  asking 
question  after  question  which  were  answered  feebly 
enough.  After  a  while  the  men  who  had  followed 
Hammersley  returned  and  made  their  reports — the 
dull  boom  of  the  voice  of  Wentz  and  the  harsh  crackle 
of  von  Stromberg's  in  rage  and  mortification. 

"He  got  away,  Excellenz,"  said  Wentz.  "For  a 
moment  only  I  saw  him,  and  followed  fast  as  I  could, 
but  my  legs  are  too  short." 

"Bah!  You  are  an  imbecile,  Herr  Hauptmann. 
IA.nd  the  other  men,  are  not  their  legs  longer?" 

"Yes,  but  Herr  Hammersley  has  the  legs  of  a  deer. 
They  are  following,  but  it  is  like  hunting  for  a  grain 
of  barley  in  a  coal  scuttle.  He  may  have  taken  to 
the  woods  anywhere." 

"Ja — but  the  Fraulein.  She  could  not  have  run  as 
fast  as  he!" 

"It  is  my  opinion,"  said  Wentz  with  some  temerity, ' 
"that  they  had  a  rendezvous  somewhere  beyond.     He 
has  known  these  mountains  since  his  boyhood." 

"Esel!  But  she  hasn't,  and  how  should  she  find  it 
in  the  dark?" 

"Perhaps,  the  matter  being  so  important,  he  would 
have  deserted  her." 

"Quatsch!  Find  me  the  girl  and  I  will  find  you 
Hammersley." 

Hammersley  felt  Doris's  clasp  tighten  on  his  own. 

"She  cannot  have  gotten  far  away.     Search  for  her, 
258 


SUCCESS 


schafskopf.  Search  the  woods  and  rocks  until  morn- 
ing. Take  the  other  machine  and  follow  his  footsteps 
until  you  see  them  no  more.  Then  follow  his  trail 
in  the  woods.  Take  the  two  Forsters  with  you.  I  will 
go  back  to  Blaufelden  to  send  for  more  men  and  ques- 
;  tion  the  guards  who  permitted  his  escape.  Go!" 

The  fugitives  sat  silently  listening  to  the  sounds 
below  them,  heard  the  orders  to  put  the  wounded 
man  and  the  dead  messenger  into  the  machine  and 
presently  the  commotion  of  departure  as  the  machines 
were  backed  away  from  the  gully,  turned,  in  available 
spots,  and  then  departed  in  opposite  directions,  Gen- 
eral von  Stromberg's  at  full  speed,  the  other  slowly, 
while  Captain  Wentz  walked  on  before,  his  shoulders 
bent,  trying  to  follow  the  signs  of  Hammersley's  rub- 
ber soles  in  the  road.  But  it  had  begun  to  rain  stead- 
ily again  and  Hammersley  was  thankful,  for  it  would 
not  be  long  before  all  marks  of  his  footsteps  would  be 
erased. 


CHAPTER  XIX 
THE  CAVE  ON  THE  THORWALD 

SAFE?"  he  heard  her  whisper. 
"Yes,  for  the  present." 
"You  have  what  you  came  for?" 

"I  think  so." 

"And  what  shall  we  do  now?" 

"Sleep.    You're  dead  beat.     Come." 

He  rose  and  helped  her  to  her  feet,  then  after  an- 
other pause,  turned  toward  the  wall  of  rocks  behind 
them. 

"Do  you  think  you  can  make  it?  It's  a  difficult 
climb." 

"Yes.  I've  that  much  left  in  me.  You  lead  the 
way  and  I'll  follow."  Her  teeth  were  chattering. 

As  he  touched  her  sleeve  he  found  it  soaked  witK 
moisture. 

"Poor  child.  You're  nearly  frozen."  He  had  not 
been  conscious  of  the  occasional  spatter  of  rain, 
for  his  leather  jacket  had  kept  him  dry.  "But 
I'll  have  you  warm  and  snug  before  you  can  say 
knife." 

And  when  she  questioned,  "A  fire "  he  replied, 

"Isn't  that  what  one  uses  to  get  warm  with?" 

"But  here — tonight ?" 

"Oh,  don't  bother.     You'll  see." 

They  were  climbing  up  the  face  of  the  slippery 
rocks,  Hammersley  pausing  from  time  to  time  to  let 
her  rest,  pulling  her  from  above  when  he  reached  the 

260 


ledges,  and  at  last  they  came  out  into  the  amphithea- 
ter of  bowlders  from  which  he  had  descended. 

She  was  almost  too  weary  for  comment  and  followed 
blindly  as  he  led  her  to  the  wall  of  the  rock  where  he 
seemed  to  disappear  in  its  very  face.  She  followed 
him  inside  a  dark  opening  and  when  they  were  well 
within  he  relinquished  her  hand  and  struck  a  match. 
A  brief  glimpse  she  had  of  a  small  chamber  in  the  cliff 
not  twenty  feet  square  when  the  match  went  out.  He 
struck  another  and  shading  it  with  his  hand  went  for- 
ward. She  saw  him  find  what  he  was  loking  for  and  in 
a  moment  a  candle,  after  faintly  sputtering  for  a  mo- 
ment, sent  forth  a  steady  glow  of  light. 

"Sit  here  on  this  stool.  I'll  have  you  right  in  a 
jiffy." 

She  obeyed  him  and  looked  around  her.  At  one  side 
was  a  bed  of  pine  needles,  at  another  a  small  table  and 
in  the  middle  of  the  rocky  floor  the  gray  embers  of 
what  had  been  a  fire. 

"A  bit  roughish,  but  not  so  bad?" 

She  nodded  while  he  busied  himself  in  building  the 
fire.  There  were  dry  leaves,  twigs  and  logs  in  the 
corner,  and  soon  a  blaze  was  leaping  cheerfully  up- 
ward. And  while  she  wondered  at  the  sigws  of  occu- 
pancy he  answered  her  thought. 

"It's  Lindberg's.  He  comes  here  often.  It  was 
here  that  he  and  I  always  slept  when  we  went  on  hunt- 
ing trips.  You  see  there's  a  natural  chimney  over- 
head in  the  rocks  where  the  bally  smoke  goes  out. 
They  might  observe  the  smoke  by  day,  but  at  night 
we're  quite  safe.  I've  been  all  around  the  place  when 
the  fire  was  goin'  and  there  isn't  a  sign  of  it  out- 
side." 

He  helped  her  put  her  coat  off  and  made  her  com- 
261 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


fortable  close  to  the  fire,  after  which  he  quickly  took 
the  package  of  papers  out  of  his  pocket  and  examined 
them.  The  single  papers  were  military  orders  of  no 
importance  to  one  Lieutenant  Orstmann,  obviously  the 
dead  messenger.  Hammersley  put  them  aside,  break- 
ing the  seal  of  the  heavy  envelope  and  examining  its 
contents  carefully.  First  a  letter  of  instructions  to 
His  Excellency  von  Stromberg,  signed  in  the  bold  hand 
of  the  Emperor  of  Germany  himself.  He  showed  her 
the  signature  and  explained  its  contents  and  all 
thought  of  weariness  went  from  her  mind. 

"It  is — it's  what  you  came  for?" 

"Yes,"  he  replied,  smiling  grimly.     "I've  got  it." 

"Is  it — it  isn't  so  important  that  you  can't  tell 
me?"  she  asked  timidly. 

He  laughed,  put  his  arm  around  her  and  held  her 
for  a  moment  tenderly.  She  had  endured  where  a  man 
might  have  flinched,  and  yet  at  this  moment  she  was 
all  woman — timid,  weary  unto  death,  but  still  curious. 
It  was  the  master  impulse.  . 

"No,"  he  smiled.  "You've  jolly  well  earned  the  right 
to  know.  I'll  tell  you." 

He  was  so  big,  so  strong,  so  certain  of  himself  that 
she  wondered  how,  for  a  moment  even,  she  could  have 
thought  him  other  than  he  was.  With  a  sudden  im- 
pulse of  pride  and  tenderness,  she  rose,  put  her  arms 
around  his  neck  and  bending  his  head  down  to  hers 
kissed  him  upon  the  lips.  He  caught  her  to  him  and 
held  her  in  his  arms. 

"O  Cyril,"  she  murmured,  "that  I  could  ever  have 
failed  in  my  belief  in  you,  that  I  could  ever  have 
thought  that  you  were  false!  Why  didn't  you  tell  me 
the  truth?  I  would  have  kept  your  secret." 

"It  was  impossible,  dear.  It  was  too  big  a  thing 
262 


THE  CAVE  ON  THE  THORWALD 

and  I  was  sworn  to  silence.  But  since  you  found 
out " 

"Did  you  think  me  curious — "  she  asked  naively, 
"because  I  read  the  cigarette  papers?" 

"Curious!"  he  laughed.  "Well  rather!  The  mis- 
take I  made  was  in  tellin'  you  not  to  read  them.  If 
j » 

"Don't  laugh  at  me,"  she  whispered.  "I  can't  stand 
that.  The  only  retribution  for  what  I  did  this  after- 
noon is  a  blow.  If  you  struck  me,  Cyril,  I  should  not 
care." 

"But  I  won't,  you  know,  old  girl.  But  I'm  going  to 
kiss  you  again  if  you  don't  mind." 

And  he  did,  while  a  shadow  darkened  her  eyes.  "It 
seems  terrible  to  be  happy,  even  in  our  moment  of 
security,  with  the  shadow  of  death  hanging  so  closely 

over  us.  I  know  you  had  to  kill  him,  Cyril,  but " 

She  paused. 

"It  was  either  that  or  he  would  have  killed  me.  As 
it  was,  it  was  too  jolly  close  a  thing  for  comfort.  I 
gave  the  other  man  his  chance,  but  he  wouldn't  take  it. 
Lucky  he  didn't,  for  I  might  have  missed  the  papers." 

She  clung  to  him  more  closely. 

"And  if  you  had  been  killed?"  she  whispered.  "I 
saw  it  all.  At  first  I  thought  you  had  fallen.  O 
Cyril,  the  agony  of  it!  And  then  you  came  out  from 
behind  the  tree  and  I  knew  that  you  were  unharmed. 
I  had  seen  a  man  die,  as  I  had,  there  upon  the  rocks 
at  Ben-a-Chielt,  but  when  the  other  one  came  at  you 
I  wanted  you  to  kill  him.  I  wanted  it.  I  prayed  that 
you  would.  It  was  murder — in  my  heart.  I  can't 
understand  how  I  have  changed.  And  I've  always 
thought  death  such  a  fearsome  thing!" 

She  hid  her  face  in  his  shoulder  and  clung  to  him, 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


trembling.  She  had  passed  through  danger  valiantly, 
carelessly  even,  but  now  that  for  the  moment  danger 
had  passed,  woman-like,  she  yielded  to  the  reaction. 
He  kissed  her  gently. 

"Sh — child.  Don't  let  it  work  on  you.  No  bally 
use.  We're  safe  now." 

"Yes — safe  for  the  present.  That  ought  to  be 
enough  for  me.  But  if  anything  had  happened  to 
you — !"  She  shuddered. 

"But  it  didn't " 

"Oh,  I'm  thankful,"  she  whispered.  "Thankful  for 
that — and  for  you — the  trouble  I've  passed  through — 
the  pain  of  my  thoughts  of  you — I'm  thankful  for 
those  too,  because  without  them  I  never  should  have 
known  you — the  real  you,  Cyril.  I  sometimes  think 
that  life  deals  too  easily  with  most  of  us  to  bring  out 
the  best  that's  in  us.  I  never  would  have  known  you 
in  England,  Cyril,  doing  the  things  you  always  did." 

He  smiled  at  her. 

"I'm  the  same  chap,  though.  Can't  tell  what  a  fel- 
low will  do  when  he  has  to." 

"But  you  didn't  have  to.  You  might  have  gone  to 
France  and  sat  in  a  trench.  Instead  of  that  you  did 
what  was  harder — let  them  distrust  you — hold  you  in , 
contempt — keeping  silent  and  cheerful,  while  you  were 
doing  such  splendid  things  for  England."  She  paused 
while  she  caressed  him  and  said  in  a  proud  whisper, 
"The  Honorable  Cyril!" 

"Honorable!"  he  smiled.  "You'd  hardly  get  von 
Stromberg  to  think  that." 

"That  terrible  old  man!"  she  went  on  clinging  to 
him.  "I  can  see  his  vulture  face  now.  He  would  have 
shot  you — tomorrow!" 

"But  we  fooled  him — what?     Poor  Lindberg!" 
264 


THE  CAVE  ON  THE  THORWALD 

She  questioned  him  and  he  told  her  of  the  devotion 
of  his  old  friend. 

"And  what  will  von  Stromberg  do  to  Lindberg?" 
she  asked  anxiously. 

"I  don't  know,"  he  said  slowly.  "Nothin'  perhaps, 
unless  Udo  tells."  He  paused  and  looked  into  the  fire. 
"Wish  I  knew  about  Udo,"  he  said  thoughtfully. 
"We  were  very  good  pals  last  year." 

"But  he  wouldn't  see  you  shot!" 

"He  couldn't  do  anythin'.  I  am  betrayin'  his  coun- 
try." 

"But  not  your  country,  Cyril,"  she  said. 

"No,  thank  God.  Not  mine.  I  love  Germany — the 
Germany  of  my  mother — and  the  men  like  Lindberg. 
But  the  Germany  of  von  Stromberg — that's  not  Ger- 
many to  me." 

"Do  you  think  we  will  get  away?" 

"Yes,"  he   said  quickly. 

She  read  the  anxiety  in  his  voice  and  knew  that  he 
was  thinking  of  her,  and  in  that  moment  a  new  idea  of 
her  duty  came  to  her. 

"You  mean,"  she  said  quickly,  "that  you  could  get 
away  if  it  wasn't  for  me.  O  Cyril,  I  know.  Don't  try 
to  deceive  me.  You  could  disguise  yourself  and  get 
away  to  the  Swiss  border.  It  would  not  be  difficult 
for  you.  I  am  a  weight  around  your  neck  which  may 
destroy  you." 

"Hush,  child." 

"No.  I  am  not  too  stupid  to  see  that.  You  ought 
to  be  going  now."  She  clung  to  his  arms  and  looked 
up  into  his  face  as  her  duty  came  more  clearly  to  her, 
while  her  voice  trembled  with  earnestness.  "I  want 
you  to  go,  Cyril.  Your  life  is  valuable  to  England. 
They  are  on  a  false  scent  down  there.  You  could  get 
18  265 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


away  in  the  darkness  and  by  morning  you  can  be  miles 
away.  I'm  not  afraid.  Tomorrow  I  can  go  and  give 
myself  up.  I  am  only  a  girl — an  American.  They 
will  not  dare  to  harm  me.  Don't  smile.  I  am  in  deadly 
earnest.  You  must  go,  Cyril — now — now ' 

But  he  only  patted  her  gently. 

"You  think  that  I  am  a  child,"  she  went  on,  "that 
I  cannot  be  trusted  to  get  along  alone.  Haven't  I 
proved  it  to  you  that  I  am  not  afraid?  Look  at  me, 
Cyril.  I  am  only  a  little  tired  now  but  tomorrow 
I  will  go  to  von  Stromberg  and  say,  'Here  I  am — now 
what  can  you  do  to  me?'  He  may  threaten  and  bluster 
and  rage,  but  that  will  not  frighten  me — when  you  are 
safe.  What  can  he  reply?  What  could  he  do?  My 
nation  is  not  at  war  with  his.  He  would  not  dare!  O 
Cyril,  say  that  you'll  go — say  that  you'll  go ' 

She  looked  up  into  his  face  and  saw  that  its  expres- 
;sion  had  not  changed.  He  was  still  smiling  at  her 
softly  while  she  felt  the  touch  of  his  fingers  gently 
petting  her. 

"Oh — you  won't  go — you  wont !"  she  cried,  and  then 
without  further  warning  burst  into  a  passion  of  tears. 

"Don't,  Doris,  for  God's  sake,"  he  whispered.  "Don't 
break  now.  I  need  all  your  courage  and  your  strength. 
You've  been  so  brave — so  strong.  Keep  up  your 
spirits,  there's  a  dear.  We'll  pull  through,  don't  you 
worry." 

"They'll  take  you — if  you  stay  here." 

"No.  They  won't  find  us.  I'm  not  afraid  of  that, 
and  there  are  water  and  biscuits  here.  We'll  take 
things  easy  for  a  while  and  then  slip  off.  Do  you 
think  I  could  go  and  leave  you  in  the  lurch?  Pretty 
sort  of  a  Johnny  I'd  be  to  do  a  thing  like  that !  Not 
for  twenty  Englands,  Doris,"  he  whispered,  kissing 

966 


THE  CAVE  ON  THE  THORWALD 

her  tenderly.     "Not  for  twenty  Englands,  I  wouldn't.'5 
His  touch  soothed  her  and  she  grew  more  quiet. 

"Of — of  course  you  w-wouldn't,"  she  murmured. 
"But  I  w-wish  you  would." 

Her  hands  met  around  his  neck  and  he  raised  her 
chin  and  kissed  her  on  the  mouth.  It  was  a  kiss  of 
plighted  troth,  of  tenderness,  faith  and  the  exalted 
passion  that  comes  with  tears. 

"Mated?"  he  whispered. 

"Yes — yes,"  she  murmured  faintly. 

They  did  not  move  for  a  long  moment  when  Doris 
slowly  disengaged  her  arms  from  around  his  neck 
and  moved  slightly  away.  Her  hair  had  fallen  and 
hung  in  golden  disorder  about  her  shoulders.  She  put 
up  her  arm,  trying  to  catch  the  escaping  pins,  and 
then  she  smiled  at  him,  dimpling  adorably. 

"Come,"  he  said  gently.  "You  must  get  to  bed. 
Your  coat  is  nearly  dry,  but  I'll  cover  you  with  my 
jacket.  You  must  sleep,  too.  No  shammin',  you  know* 
Can't  tell  what  may  happen  tomorrow." 

"I'll  try,"  she  murmured  obediently,  while  he  led  her 
to  the  couch  of  boughs  and  made  her  lie  on  it.  But 
as  he  knelt  beside  her,  covering  her  with  his  jacket, 
she  caught  his  hands  and  would  not  relinquish  them. 
He  raised  hers  to  his  lips  and  kissed  them  again  and 
again:  small,  muscular  hands  they  were,  but  now  very 
brown  and  dirty.  "Are  you  comfortable?  Sorry  I 
haven't  a  tub." 

She  was  silent  a  moment  and  then  straightened  and 
asked  him: 

"You  promised  to  tell  me  about  the  papers.  Won't 
you?" 

He  laughed. 

"Not  now.     It  must  be  nearly  morning.'* 
267 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


"Yes,  now.  I'm  not  tired  now.  I  will  sleep  after- 
wards. I  like  to  hear  your  voice,  Cyril.  Perhaps  it 
will  soothe  me  to  sleep." 

"Are  you  sure?"  he  asked  doubtfully — and  she 
nodded. 

He  saw  that  she  was  still  nervous  and  wakeful  and 
sank  beside  her  couch,  taking  her  hand  in  his. 

"It  is  really  quite  interestin',"  he  began  slowly. 
"Three  years  ago,  at  the  invitation  of  the  Emperor  of 
Germany,  when  Europe  was  at  peace  and  there  was  no 
cloud  upon  the  horizon  bigger  than  a  chap's  hand, 
there  met  in  a  shootin'  lodge  near  Schondorf,  not  ten 
miles  from  here,  six  men.  It  was  a  secret  conference, 
arranged  by  the  Emperor  of  Germany  through  His 
Excellency  Graf  von  Stromberg.  The  six  men  were 
His  Highness  Prince  von  Waldheim,  at  one  time  Ger- 
many's ambassador  to  France;  Admiral  von  Franken- 
hausen,  head  and  front  of  the  Imperial  German  Navy; 
General  von  Sandersdorf,  the  brains  of  the  German 
General  Staff;  His  Excellency  Moritz  von  Komarom, 
minister  of  war  of  the  Austrian  Empire;  Viscount 
Melborne,  English  Secretary  of  State  for  Foreign 
Affairs;  and  Harlow-Gorden,  of  the  British  Ad- 
miralty." 

She  was  listening  avidly,  wide-eyed,  the  array  of 
well-known  names  telling  her  as  nothing  else  could 
have  done  the  importance  of  the  conference. 

"This  meetin'  was  a  secret,"  he  went  on.  "These 
men  all  traveled  incognito,  without  servants,  and  were 
met  by  an  agent  of  General  von  Stromberg  at  Schon- 
dorf and  conducted  in  automobiles  to  the  huntin'  lodge 
I  have  spoken  of.  These  men  remained  there  for  two 
days  and  two  nights  and  then  went  home.  But  while 
they  were  there  they  were  makin'  new  history  for 

268 


THE  CAVE  ON  THE  THORWALD 

Europe."  He  paused  to  fill  his  pipe  but  her  curiosity 
could  not  be  restrained. 

"And  what  were  they  doing  there,  Cyril?  I  can't 
understand." 

Hammersley  got  up  and  held  his  pipe  to  the  candle, 
for  matches  were  scarce,  and  then,  with  maddening 
calmness,  sat  beside  her  again. 

"That  secret  meetin'  of  these  chaps  had  to  do  with 
nothin'  less  than  the  ruin  of  France " 

"France!"  she  cried.  "England  had  nothing 
against  France  and  now  she  is  her  ally." 

"Three  years  ago  the  political  conditions  were  dif- 
ferent," he  answered.  "Those  representatives  of  Eng- 
land came  and  sat  with  representatives  of  Germany 
and  Austria  while  they  plotted  the  destruction  of 
France." 

"But  how  do  you  know  this,  Cyril?  I  can't  under- 
stand." 

"No  more  do  I,  but  it's  a  fact.  Let  me  go  on.  At 
the  table  in  the  lodge  where  this  conference  was  held, 
Viscount  Melborne  made  notes  of  what  was  goin'  on, 
includin'  the  combinations  of  land  and  naval  forces 
that  could  be  made  against  France  and  Russia,  and 
the  plans  to  break  the  Russian  Federation  in  the  Bal- 
kans. When  the  meetin'  was  over  all  the  scraps  of 
paper  these  chaps  had  scribbled  on  were  destroyed  by 
fire  before  the  eyes  of  the  men  who  had  made  'em, 
except  those  of  Viscount  Melborne,  who  put  'em  in 
his  pocket,  and  with  them  a  pencil  copy  of  this  secret 
treaty  in  his  own  handwriting.  The  original  copy  of 
the  treaty  was  entrusted  to  Harlow-Gorden,  who  put 
it  in  his  dispatch-box.  It  was  not  until  the  next  day 
when  the  Englishmen,  in  the  train  on  the  way  to  Paris, 
discovered  that  Viscount  Melborne's  private  papers 

269 


THE  YELLOW  DOFE 


were  missin'.  Jolly  fine  mess — what?  They  got  off  at 
the  next  stop,  went  back  to  Schondorf  and  looked  for 
the  papers,  but  neither  there  nor  at  the  lodge  was 
there  hair  or  hide  of  'em.  So  they  went  back  to  Eng- 
land hopin'  that  by  some  fortunate  accident  the  papers 
had  been  destroyed." 

"And  these — "  asked  the  girl,  "are  they?" 

He  nodded.  "To  make  the  story  short,  I  found  out 
where  they  had  gone.  My  flights  to  Germany  have 
been  made  for  this  purpose.  Don't  you  see?  The 
papers  came  into  the  hands  of  the  Emperor  of  Ger- 
many and  he  was  plannin'  to  have  'em  sent  to  the 
President  of  the  French  Republic — England's  ally.  It 
wouldn't  do,  you  know,  to  have  such  papers  at  such  a 
time  fall  into  the  hands  of  France.  Hardly  a  credit 
to  English  diplomacy.  What?  Might  even  result  in 
a  new  entente." 

"But  where  were  the  papers  in  the  meanwhile?"  she 
asked. 

"That  is  what  took  me  so  bally  long  to  find  out. 
After  many  hunts  away  from  Windenberg  at  night,  I 
traced  'em  to  a  Socialist  by  the  name  of  Gottschalk 
at  Schondorf,  who  had  received  'em  from  a  pensioner 
of  the  Imperial  Forest  Service,  one  of  the  attendants 
at  the  huntin'  lodge  where  the  conference  was  held. 
Whether  he  found  'em  or  stole  'em  I  don't  know,  but 
I  frightened  him  and  he  confessed,.  I  was  on  the  very 
point  of  stealing  'em  from  Gottschalk  when  I  found 
out  that  he  had  been  writin'  to  the  Wilhelmstrasse,  and 
when  I  tried  to  get  'em  they  were  gone.  If  I'd  got  'em 
then,  you  would  not  be  here,  Doris,  and  I — 

"But  how  did  you  learn  what  the  Wilhelmstrasse 
proposed  to  do  with  them?" 

"Oh,  that  was  quite  clear.  The  English  Foreign 
270 


THE  CAVE  ON  THE  THORWALD 

Office  has  been  badly  frightened  and  has  used  every 
effort  with  its  secret  agents  in  Berlin  to  get  that 
information.  It  reached  London  the  other  day.  And 
just  before  I  left  Scotland  I  knew  the  job  was  to  be 
given  to  General  von  Stromberg.  The  rest  was  Kismet 
— the  fortune  of  war — a  jolly  good  piece  of  luck! 
Lindberg  overheard  through  the  microphone  von 
Stromberg  givin'  instructions  to  Wentz — so  that  Hi* 
Excellency's  own  weapons  were  turned  against  him. 
I  was  goin'  to  waylay  Wentz  on  the  way  to  France, 
but  circumstances  prevented " 

"It  was  I,  Cyril,"  she  broke  in  pleadingly.  "I  didn't 
know.  I  betrayed  you." 

"A  trick,"  he  laughed,  "invented  in  the  Rameses 
family — but  still  useful." 

"He  frightened  me,"  she  stammered.  "I  believed 
the  message  signed  'Maxwell'  genuine." 

"Not  Maxwell,"  he  said  gravely,  "for  Maxwell — a 
sore  spot  since  the  war  began  in  the  side  of  the  War 
Office — Maxwell  is  dead." 

"You ?"  she  exclaimed  fearfully. 

"Yes,"  he  replied.  "I  told  and  they  caught  him.  I 
couldn't  do  so  before.  It's  war,  Doris.  It  is  a  fair 
game.  I  ask  no  favors — nor  do  I  give  any." 

She  was  silent  a  moment  looking  into  the  fire. 

"Yes,  I  understand — a  terrible  game  with  odds 

against "  And  then,  after  a  pause,  "You  say  that 

we  will  get  away.  Won't  you  tell  me  your  plan?" 

He  rose  with  a  confident  laugh. 

"Yes,  I  have  a  plan,  but  I'rn  not  going  to  tell  it  now. 
You  are  going  to  sleep." 

She  laughed  wearily  and  sat  up. 

"And  you?     Where  will  you  sleep?" 

"By  the  fire.  I've  got  some  thinkin'  to  do.  I'm  not 
271 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


sleepy.  I  had  eight  hours  last  night.  I'm  going  to 
watch." 

He  bent  over  her  and  gently  made  her  lie  down. 
*'I  will  talk  to  you  no  more.  You  must  go  to  sleep." 

She  sighed  and  stretched  herself  out  while  he  cov- 
ered her  with  his  coat.  Then  he  put  a  fresh  log  on 
the  fire  and  sat  beside  her  again.  In  a  moment  he 
heard  her  voice. 

"I  hope  you  don't  mind  my  telling  you,  Cyril,  that 
I  love  you  a  great  deal." 

"Not  in  the  least,"  he  whispered.  "I  wouldn't  mind 
listenin'  while  you  said  it  all  night.  But 

"There.  You're  going  to  insist  on  my  sleeping 
again !" 

"Won't  you?" 

"I  don't  seem  to  feel  as  if  I  could  ever  sleep  again. 
You're  so  cool,  so  calm,  Cyril.  How  can  you  be?" 

"No  bally  use  gettin'  excited.  Here  we  are  snug  as 
two  bugs  in  a  rug.  We'll  slip  through  them  some 
way." 

"But  where  will  we  go?" 

He  smiled. 

"I  have  a  notion  of  goin'  to  England."  His  kind 
of  quiet  humor  always  put  her  on  her  mettle. 

"To  England — ?"     She  started  up. 

"There  won't  be  much  chance  of  your  doin'  any- 
thin'  tomorrow  if  you  don't  get  your  sleep,"  he  in- 
sisted gently.  "Do  what  I  ask,  Doris.  Sleep  you 
must." 

"I'll  try.     Good  night,  Cyril." 

"Good  night."  He  kissed  her  on  the  forehead  and 
drew  his  jacket  over  her  again,  then  sat  beside  her, 
her  hand  in  his,  watching.  Gradually  her  nerves  grew 
quiet  and  weariness  mastered  her.  He  waited  until 

272 


THE  CAVE  ON  THE  THORWALD 

her  breathing  indicated  sleep,  when  he  carefully  relin- 
quished her  hand  and  moved  to  the  fire,  where  he  care- 
fully studied  the  papers  by  the  light  of  his  candle, 
after  which  he  slipped  them  into  the  pocket  of  his 
trousers  and  moved  softly  across  the  cave  into  a  cor- 
ner, where  he  opened  the  lid  of  a  tin  box  and  examined 
its  contents,  taking  out  a  fresh  candle  to  replace  the 
other  one,  which  was  on  the  point  of  expiring. 

Then  he  filled  his  pipe  with  great  deliberateness  and, 
returning  to  the  stool  by  the  fire,  crossed  his  knees  and 
bent  forward,  gazing  into  the  blaze,  his  brows  tangled 
in  deep  thought.  He  had  succeeded  in  getting  what 
he  came  for.  So  far,  the  secret  of  the  meeting  in  the 
shooting  lodge  was  safe.  But  for  how  long?  By  this 
time  a  description  of  the  two  of  them  had,  of  course, 
been  telegraphed  to  every  village  and  military  station 
in  Germany.  That  wouldn't  do  at  all.  Alone  it  might 
be  managed,  with  a  German  officer's  uniform  and  Herr 
Lieutenant  Orstmann's  military  orders,  but  with  Doris 
— it  wasn't  to  be  thought  of. 

The  other  alternative  appealed  to  him  more 
strongly.  He  had  matched  his  wits  against  von  Strom- 
berg's  so  far  and  had  won,  and  success  made  him  hope- 
ful. Where  carefulness  failed,  audacity  sometimes 
succeeded.  The  more  he  thought  of  his  plan,  the 
deeper  became  his  conviction  that  it  was  the  only  one 
possible  under  the  circumstances.  There  was  con- 
tinued danger  for  the  papers  and  he  deliberated  for  a 
long  while  upon  the  wisdom  of  destroying  them  at 
once,  finally  rejecting  that  idea  except  as  a  last  alter- 
native. His  word  that  he  had  destroyed  them  would 
perhaps  be  sufficient  to  ease  the  minds  of  the  gentlemen 
at  the  Foreign  Office,  but  there  were  certain  memo- 
randa about  the  promises  of  Germany  to  England 

273 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


signed  with  the  initials  of  Prince  von  Waldheim  which 
should  at  all  costs  be  saved.  But  aside  from  this 
consideration,  Hammersley,  having  carried  his  affairs 
thus  far  successfully,  had  a  pride  in  finishing  it  as  he 
had  planned.  It  could  be  done — he  would  do  it. 

He  got  up  and  put  another  log  on  the  fire  and 
then  stretched  himself  out  at  full  length  upon  the 
rocks,  gazing  into  the  flame.  In  the  corner  where  the 
bed  was  he  heard  the  steady  breathing  of  the  girl. 
What  a  trump  she  was — What  a  tr 

He  nodded  and  then  dozed.  Troubled  visions  flitted 
across  his  mind.  Once  he  thought  he  heard  the  sound 
of  a  footstep  on  the  rocks  and  started  up.  It  was 
broad  daylight.  He  listened  for  a  while  and  then 
slowly  sank  back  and  slept  again.  How  long  he  did 
not  know,  for  something  awakened  him  and  he  sat  up, 
reaching  instinctively  for  the  holster  lying  at  his  side, 
to  look  straight  into  the  muzzle  of  an  automatic,  be- 
hind which  was  the  handsome  blond  head  of  Udo  von 
Winden. 


CHAPTER    XX 

THE  FIGHT  IN  THE  CAVERN 

UDO  loomed  against  the  light  and  the  uniform  he 
wore  seemed  to  give  the  projecting  weapon 
a  new  significance.  He  was  not  Udo,  the 
kinsman  and  companion  who  had  so  often  shared  this 
refuge  with  Hammersley  in  the  hunting  days.  He 
was  Germany.  Hammersley  could  never  remember  the 
time  when  the  muzzle  of  a  weapon  had  seemed  so  large. 
It  was  much  better  to  sit  without  moving,  and  Udo's 
quick  instructions  were  not  wasted. 

"Don't  move,  Cyril,"  he  said  coolly  in  German.  "Up 
with  your  hands !  So.  Now  get  up,  leaving  your  belt 
where  it  is,  and  sit  on  the  stool  yonder.  Quickly!  I 
will  shoot— to  kill." 

Hammersley  read  in  his  expression  a  determination 
to  put  the  threat  into  practice  and,  watching  nar- 
rowly, silently  obeyed.  Von  Winden,  still  covering 
him  carefully,  picked  up  the  belt  and  transferred 
Lindberg's  pistol  to  his  own  holster.  He  was  a  dead 
shot  with  any  firearm,  as  Hammersley  knew,  and  his 
own  chances  at  three  paces  even  in  a  rush  were  small. 
It  was  decidedly  a  case  for  discretion. 

"I  suppose  there's  nothing  to  be  said,"  Hammersley 
muttered.  "You  outguessed  me,  Udo."  And  then,  to 
gain  a  moment  of  time,  "I  thought  that  your  memory 
might  be  quite  good  enough  to  forget  the  Thorwald." 
Von  Winden  frowned  down  the  barrel  of  the  automatic. 

"It  is  too  much  to  expect  even  from  me,"  he  said 
275 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


crisply.  "I  am  your  kinsman  but  I  am  first  of  all — a 
German.  And  not  even  for  you  will  I  be  a  traitor." 

"NatiirUch!"  smiled  Cyril. 

Udo  von  Winden's  look  was  grave,  his  voice  sober, 
and  the  muzzle  of  his  automatic  did  not  waver. 

"I  have  already  had  a  bad  memory,  my  cousin. 
This  afternoon  I  forgot  that  Lindberg,  who  served 
your  meals,  was  a  good  friend  of  yours  and  mine  and 
that  he  might  be  counted  on  to  help  you  out  of  your 
difficulties.  I  also  forgot  that  there  was  such  a  place 
as  the  Cave  of  the  Thorwald  until  I  learned  from  Ex- 
cellenz  last  night,  the  price  Germany  was  to  pay  for 
my  indifference.  If  you  had  failed  to  capture  the 
documents  of  His  Majesty,  I  might  have  remained 
silent.  As  you  took  them,  there  remained  nothing  but 
to  act.  I  came  here,  for  I  knew  it  would  be  the  one 
place  where  I  should  find  you."  Hammersley  bent  his 
head.  "I  understand."  And  then  quickly,  "Would 
you  mind  telling  me  if  you  have  spoken — if  you  have 
told  what  Lindberg — ?" 

"No,"  von  Winden  broke  in,  "I  have  told  nothing. 
Lindberg  is  safe.  I  have  come  here  alone — 

Hammersley  gave  a  gasp  of  relief  and  leaned  for- 
ward, peering  into  the  fire. 

"I  came  for  one  purpose,  Cyril,"  Udo  went  on 
quietly.  "I  have  no  personal  desire  for  your  death, 
but  I  would  kill  you  as  you  sit  rather  than  see  Ger- 
many suffer  the  loss  of  the  documents  in  your  posses- 
sion. I  came  for  them  and  I  intend  that  you  shall 
give  them  to  me." 

Hammersley  looked  up  into  his  cousin's  face  and 
their  eyes  met.  Von  Winden's  tone  was  cool  and  his 
manner  as  calm  as  on  the  days  last  year  when  they 
were  hunting  together,  but  Hammersley  knew  that 

276 


THE  FIGHT  IN  THE  CAVERN 

when  Udo  von  Winden  was  most  calm  he  was  also  most 
dangerous.  So  he  slowly  reached  into  the  pocket  of 
his  trousers  and  handed  his  cousin  the  papers  he  had 
taken  from  the  German  messenger. 

"Danke,"  said  Udo,  backing  to  the  light  of  the  en- 
trance of  the  cave  to  examine  them.  "You  are  sure 
they  are  all  here?" 

"My  word  on  it,  Udo,"  said  Hammersley  frankly. 
He  watched  his  cousin  examine  the  documents  and 
heard  him  give  an  exclamation  of  satisfaction,  but 
Hammersley  saw  that  his  eyes  neglected  no  detail  of 
the  cavern  and  was  aware  that  the  muzzle  of  the 
weapon  in  Udo's  hand  still  bore  directly  upon  him. 
In  the  shadows  Hammersley  saw  the  face  of  Doris, 
who  was  sitting  up,  pallid  and  dark-eyed  as  though 
awakened  from  one  nightmare  into  another.  As  Udo 
saw  her  the  muzzle  of  his  weapon  wavered  and  went 
out  of  alignment,  but  Hammersley  did  not  move  or 
even  appear  to  notice  the  girl. 

There  was  a  note  of  embarrassment  in  the  German's 
officer's  voice  as  he  spoke  again. 

"I  am  sorry,  my  cousin,  that  your  father's  blood 
'  called  you  to  be  false  to  Germany.     You  had  been  sus- 
pected by  Excellenz,  but  I  would  have  sworn  that  he 
was    mistaken.       You    owe    me    nothing,    of    course, 
but " 

"It's  war,  Udo,"  said  Hammersley  quietly.  "You 
will  remember  that  I  did  not  seek  duty  in  the  Imperial 
Secret  Service.  It  was  the  Herr  General  who  thought 
it  valuable  to  use  our  kinship  for  his  own  purposes." 

Udo  shrugged.  "Yes,  I  know,"  he  said  quietly. 
"You  have  done  your  duty — but  you  must  now  be 
aware  of  the  fact  that  you  can  ask  no  favors  of 
me." 

277 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


"I  don't.  I  am  in  your  power.  Shoot  me  if  you 
like." 

Udo  smiled. 

"I  can  hardly  be  expected  to  do  that.  I  do  not  love 
you  now,  my  cousin.  I  cannot  love  anyone  who  is  false 
to  my  country,  but  I  cannot  forget  that  once,  not  a 
year  ago,  we  were  brothers.  No,  I  cannot  shoot  you, 
Cyril,  though  perhaps  that  would  be  a  better  death 
than  that  other — yonder." 

Hammersley  shrugged.  "It  is  the  fortune  of  war. 
From  your  point  of  view  I  deserve  it.  I  can  only  thank 
you  again,  for  myself  and  for  Miss  Mather,  for  your 
generosity." 

A  sound  from  the  girl  and  Udo  acknowledged  her 
presence  by  a  bow. 

"Under  other  circumstances,"  he  said  with  stiff  po- 
liteness, "I  should  be  glad  to  extend  the  hospitalities 
of  Winden  Schloss.  But,  of  course,  as  Miss  Mather 
can  see,  my  mother  and  sisters  are  away  and  I — 

"Of  course,  Graf  von  Winden,  it  is  understood," 
she  said  haltingly  in  German. 

"I  can  do  nothing,  Fraulein.  I  am  powerless — at 
the  orders  of  General  von  Stromberg,  who  arranges 
the  coming  and  the  going  of  all  at  Windenberg."  i 

"The  coming,  Udo,"  said  Hammersley  dryly.  "Not 
the  going." 

"I  am  sorry,  I  have  done  what  I  could.  You  have 
done  well  to  give  me  the  papers.  I  shall  now  go  back 
to  Blaufelden  and  return  them  to  Excellenz." 

Hammersley  started  up. 

"You  mean  that  you  will  leave  us  here?" 

"Natiirlich.  I  do  not  wish  to  see  you  killed  against 
the  kitchen  wall.  It  is  not  the  death  for  the  blood  of 
von  Eppingen.  Even  if  you  are  shot  while  escaping 

278 


THE  FIGHT  IN  THE  CAVERN 

it  would  be  better."  He  shrugged.  "My  position  is 
this.  You  can  do  Germany  no  further  harm.  I  shall 
tell  a  likely  story.  I  have  the  papers — they  are  what 
I  came  for.  If  you  had  not  given  them  to  me  I  would 
have  killed  you,  but  now  I  shall  go  away  alone  as  I 
J  came." 

"Good  old  Udo!"  said  Hammersley  impulsively,  tak- 
ing a  pace  toward  him,  his  hand  outstretched. 

But  von  Winden's  automatic  came  quickly  into  line 
and  Hammersley  halted. 

"One  moment,  my  cousin,"  said  von  Winden  coolly. 
"I  am  quite  willing  to  accept  your  expressions  of 
gratitude  from  a  distance.  I  may  not  wish  to  see  you 
killed  by  others,  and  I  would  regret  the  necessity  of 
killing  you  myself.  I  shall  consider  you  my  prisoner 
until  I  go.  After  that" — and  he  shrugged  expres- 
sively— "you  can  go  where  you  like." 

Hammersley  folded  his  arms  and  frowned. 

"Where  I  like!"  he  muttered.  "With  every  village 
in  Hesse-Nassau  on  the  lookout  for  me."  There  was 
a  pause,  after  which  von  Winden  spoke  with  quiet 
earnestness.  "Unfortunately  I  may  not  help  you  fur- 
ther. Since  there  is  food,  to  wait  here  is  safer.  Alone, 
traveling  by  night,  a  man  might  reach  Basel  safely. 
As  for  the  Fraulein,  if  she  will  return  to  Blaufelden 
and  give  herself  up,  imprisonment  for  a  time  is  per- 
haps the  worst  that  she  need  fear." 

Doris  had  risen,  the  white  light  from  the  door  of  the 
cavern  searching  her  face  pitilessly. 

"It  is  what  I  would  do,"  she  said  haltingly.  "What 
I  have  pleaded  with  him  to  let  me  do.  Cyril,"  she  im- 
plored in  English,  "you  must  let  me." 

"I  will  think  about  it,"  he  muttered.  "You  are 
sure  that  no  harm  will  come  to  her?"  The  muzzle  of 

279 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


the  automatic  had  wavered  out  of  line  again  and 
Hammersley  was  carefully  measuring  with  his  eye  the 
distance  that  separated  him  from  his  cousin. 

"The  bark  of  Excellent  is  much  worse  than  his  bite. 
He  will  bluster  and  storm.  But  eventually  he  will  re- 
turn Miss  Mather  to  her  own  people." 

Hammersley  was  shaking  his  head  in  indecision. 

"I  am  not  so  sure  that  I  agree  with  you  about  the 
bite  of  Excellenz.  I  shall  think  of  what  I  will  do. 
I'm  sure  of  one  thing,  Udo,"  he  said  with  sincerity, 
"that  I  am  deeply  grateful  for  what  you  have  done. 
The  war  has  made  us  enemies,  and  you  have  now  pre- 
vented the  success  of  my  great  venture.  But  I  bear 
you  no  illwill.  The  debt  is  still  mine  on  account  of 
your  silence,  back  there — a  debt  made  deeper  by  the 
presence  of  Fraulein  Mather."  He  paused  to  give  his 
words  effect.  "I  had  not  told  you,  Udo,  for  at  Winden- 
burg  one  has  no  time  to  think  of  the  gentler  things  of 
life.  But  just  before  the  war  broke  out  Fraulein 
Mather  had  promised  me  to  become  my  wife." 

Hammersley  watched  von  Winden  as  he  turned  to- 
ward Doris  with  a  smile,  bowing  deeply,  his  sense  of 
the  situation  lost  for  a  second  in  the  obligations  of 
civility,  as  he  murmured  a  phrase  of  congratulations. 
"I  am  much  honored  by  your  confidences,"  he  said  for- 
mally, "and  I  deeply  regret '; 

He  got  no  further,  for  Hammersley  had  sprung  in 
suddenly  toward  him,  risking  Udo's  shot,  which  was 
fired  quickly,  without  aim. 

A  furious  struggle  followed.  Hammersley  caught 
at  von  Winden's  wrist  and  his  weight  bore  him  back 
against  the  rock,  while  both  of  them  fought  for  the 
possession  of  the  weapon.  The  German  officer  was 
smaller  than  his  cousin  but  his  wrists  were  good  and 

280 


THE  FIGHT  IN  THE  CAVERN 

he  was  quicker  than  Hammersley.  They  bore  only 
friendship  for  each  other  but  the  incentive  of  each 
was  greater  even  than  hatred  could  have  been.  They 
struggled  in  silence,  the  thought  of  the  possession  of 
the  papers  uppermost  in  the  minds  of  both.  The 
struggle  was  not  that  of  kinsman  against  kinsman,  but 
of  England  against  Germany.  Realizing  the  des- 
perateness  of  Hammersley's  attack  and  the  purpose  of 
it,  von  Winden  knew  that  a  victory  for  Hammersley 
meant  the  loss  of  the  papers  and  so  he  was  bent  on 
killing  his  cousin  if  he  could,  Hammersley  on  pre- 
venting him  from  doing  so.  They  swayed  from  side 
to  side,  breathing  hard,  while  Doris  crouched  against 
the  side  of  the  cavern,  dumb  with  terror.  Twice  she 
saw  the  weapon  in  the  German  officer's  hand  point 
downward  toward  Cyril's  back  and  then,  before  it 
could  be  used,  saw  Cyril's  arm  quickly  push  it  upward. 
She  knew  that  she  was  in  danger,  but  she  did  not  know 
what  to  do.  At  one  moment  von  Winden  seemed  to 
have  the  advantage  and  in  another  Cyril.  Udo's  back 
was  against  the  wall  and  one  of  Cyril's  arms  was 
around  him,  while  their  legs  were  intertwined  as  each 
tried  to  get  the  other  off  his  balance.  Suddenly  with 
an  effort  Hammersley  managed  to  wrench  the  pistol 
from  von  Winden's  hand  and  he  tossed  it  into  the  cor- 
ner of  the  cavern. 

Von  Winden  had  every  ethical  right  to  kill  Ham- 
mersley if  he  could,  but  after  what  his  cousin  had  done 
for  him,  Hammersley  could  not  kill  Udo.  That  was 
impossible.  He  must  succeed  without  that.  This  gen- 
erosity nearly  proved  fatal  to  him  for  the  German 
managed  to  reach  Hammersley's  automatic  in  his  own 
holster  and  had  almost  disengaged  it  when  Hammers- 
ley  caught  his  hand  again,  and  the  struggle  was  re- 
19  281 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


newed.  But  Doris,  whose  senses  and  initiative  had 
slowly  returned  to  her,  now  crept  around  the  walls  of 
the  cave  and  when  von  Winden's  outstretched  hand 
came  within  her  reach  she  seized  his  forearm  in  both 
of  her  hands  and  clung  to  it  desperately,  keeping  the 
muzzle  pointed  away  from  Cyril.  She  was  swayed  to 
and  fro  with  the  struggling  men,  who  finally  toppled 
sideways  and  fell  to  the  floor,  dragging  her  with  them, 
but  von  Winden's  grasp  of  the  weapon,  never  quite 
secure,  was  loosened  and,  as  they  dropped,  it  went 
flying  under  the  table. 

The  fight  was  soon  out  of  the  German,  for  Ham- 
mersley's  weight  had  fallen  on  him  heavily,  and  in  a 
moment  the  officer  was  flat  on  his  back  and  Hammersley 
was  sitting  on  him.  Doris,  who  had  meanwhile  picked 
up  the  pistol,  now  heard  Hammersley  gasping  jerkily. 

"Quick,  Doris — something  to  tie  with — your  stay- 
strings  !" 

She  understood  and  disappeared  outside  the  cavern, 
returning  presently  with  the  bonds,  helping  Cyril  while 
he  made  the  wrists  and  ankles  of  von  Winden  fast. 

"I  might  have  killed  you — but  I  didn't,"  Hammers- 
ley  was  gasping.  "You  saw  that,  Udo,  didn't  you?" 

"You  needn't  make  apologies.  I  would  have  killed 
you.  I  tried  to.  It's  too  bad — too  bad,"  he  panted. 

"I'm  sorry,"  Hammersley  repeated.  "Those  papers 
— they're  England's,  Udo.  They're  my  property.  I've 
got  to  take  them." 

And  without  further  words  he  put  his  hand  inside 
the  breast  of  the  officer's  coat  and  took  the  papers 
out. 

"I  wish  it  were  anybody  but  you,"  he  said. 

"I  don't  think  you  can  get  away  with  them." 

"I'm  going  to  try." 

282 


THE  FIGHT  IN  THE  CAVERN 

"I'll  prevent  you  if  I  can." 

"How?" 

"I'll  show  you."  And  with  the  remnants  of  his 
breath  he  shouted  lustily  for  help.  Hammersley  threw 
him  back,  none  too  gently,  and  clapped  a  handkerchief 
in  his  mouth,  while  he  directed  Doris  to  tear  her  under- 
skirt and  make  bandages  for  a  gag.  They  worked 
quickly  and  in  a  moment  the  German  officer  was  silent 
and  helpless.  Then  for  a  long  moment  Hammersley 
sat  by  the  prostrate  man,  slowly  recovering  his  breath. 
Doris,  ash-gray  with  fear,  crouched  beside  him,  obe- 
dient to  his  look  and  action.  At  last  with  a  laugh  he 
got  up. 

"Close  thing,  that !"  he  said.  "My  word !  He  nearly 
got  me."  And  then  with  a  look  at  the  prostrate  man, 
"Poor  old  Udo!" 

In  a  moment,  with  a  word  to  Doris,  he  went  outside 
the  cave  and  listened  intently.  He  peered  cautiously 
over  the  ridge  of  rocks.  The  road  was  deserted.  The 
sound  of  the  shot,  while  it  had  seemed  deafening,  would 
have  been  muffled  at  the  entrance  of  the  cavern  and 
could  not  have  been  heard  from  a  distance.  And  when 
Hammersley  returned,  he  reassured  Doris  as  to  the 
immediate  danger  of  discovery. 

"There  is  no  hurry,  Doris.  I  must  think,"  he  said, 
filling  his  pipe.  He  stood  upright  for  a  while,  puffing 
rapidly,  peering  down  at  the  captive,  his  expression 
struggling  between  a  frown  and  a  smile.  Herr  Graf 
Udo  von  Winden  looked  so  very  much  like  a  mummy ! 
The  eyes  of  his  cousin,  the  only  visible  part  of  his  face, 
followed  Hammersley  intently. 

"I  could  have  done  for  you,  Udo,"  Hammersley  re- 
peated. "I  want  to  be  sure  that  you  understand  that." 

Von  Winden's  head  moved  ever  so  slightly.  Doris 
283 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


had  sunk  upon  the  stool,  her  face  buried  in  her  hands. 

"Oh,  it's  cruel!"  she  murmured.  "Let  him  go, 
Cyril." 

"Hardly,"  said  Hammersley  coolly.  "He'd  raise  a 
rumpus.  Wouldn't  you,  Udo?" 

The  officer's  head  did  not  move. 

"You  see?"  said  Hammersley.  "But  I'm  going  to 
make  him  as  comfortable  as  possible."  And  taking 
him  by  the  armpits  he  dragged  his  cousin  over  to  the 
corner  and  laid  him  gently  on  the  bed  of  balsam,  and 
then  stood  beside  the  bed  looking  down  at  him  thought- 
fully, addressing  him  impersonally  in  English,  as 
though  thinking  aloud. 

"What's  to  become  of  you,  when  we  go,  old  chap — 
that's  what's  bothering  me  now." 

The  German's  shoulders  moved  slightly. 

"Oh,  that's  all  very  well,  but  I  can't  leave  you  up 
here  to  rot,  my  cousin.  No  one  knows  the  way  to  the 
Crag  of  the  Thorwald.  You  might  be  here  a  thousand 
years  if  Lindberg  shouldn't  come." 

Von  Winden  made  no  sign.  It  was  obvious  that  he 
had  no  further  intention  of  helping  in  the  solution  of 
.the  difficulty. 

"Let  me  stay  here  with  him,  Cyril,"  Doris  was 
pleading  again.  "It  can  do  me  no  harm,  and  when  you 
are  well  on  your  way,  I  will  release  him  and  go  back 
to  Blaufelden." 

"I  can't  take  that  chance.     You're  going  with  me." 

"Where?" 

«To  England." 

"But  how?" 

"Leave  that  to  me.  At  present  we  must  have  break- 
fast. Do  you  know  it's  almost  ten  o'clock?" 

Bewildered,  she  watched  him  go  to  the  large  tin 
284 


THE  FIGHT  IN  THE  CAVERN 

box  in  the  corner  of  the  cavern,  from  which  he  brought 
forth  some  dry  salt  biscuit  and  several  pieces  of  choco- 
late. 

"It  isn't  much,  but  it's  the  best  I  can  do.  There'** 
tea,  too,  but  I  don't  dare  light  the  fire." 

She  ate,  slowly  at  first,  for  the  food  seemed  to  choke 
her,  but  she  recalled  the  fact  that  except  for  two  pieces 
of  toast  and  the  chocolate  of  von  Stromberg  she  had 
eaten  nothing  since  yesterday  morning.  Cyril,  who 
never  seemed  at  a  loss  for  anything,  produced  a  metal 
pitcher  and  going  outside  the  cave  for  a  moment 
returned  with  it  full  of  water. 

"Lindberg's,"  he  said  in  reply  to  her  question.  "His 
food,  too.  Good  old  Lindberg." 

He  frowned  and  then  went  over  to  the  prisoner. 

"You  needn't  tell  me  if  you  don't  care  to,  Udo,  but 
I'd  like  to  know  how  Lindberg  is.  Will  you  answer 
me?" 

Von  Winden  nodded. 

"He  is  able  to  be  about?" 

He  nodded  again. 

"Did  His  Excellency  suspect?" 

He  shook  his  head. 

"Thank  God.     Then  Lindberg  is  at  liberty?" 

Udo  replied  in  the  affirmative. 

Hammersley  gave  a  gasp  of  relief. 

"That  is  well.  I  need  not  worry.  He  will  come 
and  release  you." 

Von  Winden  only  frowned. 

"Listen,  Udo,"  went  on  Hammersley  quickly,. 
""Fraulein  Mather  and  I  are  going  down  from  here, 
leaving  you  alone.  It  can't  be  helped.  You've  stum- 
bled up  here  and  you've  got  to  take  your  chance.  In 
time  you  may  wear  the  strings  through  against  a. 

285 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


rock.     If  you  don't  return  to  Blaufelden  by  tomorrow, 
Lindberg  will  find  you." 

"But  suppose  anything  happened  to  Lindberg," 
Doris  was  whipering.  "Ah,  Cyril,  it  would  be  terrible 
to  leave  him  here.  I  should  dream  of  it  every  night 
of  my  life." 

Udo's  eyes  smiled  at  her. 

"There  is  little  danger.  Graf  von  Winden  is  not  a 
man  to  be  so  easily  beaten.  He  will  get  away  by  to- 
night. But  in  the  meanwhile  we  will  have  gone  far 
enough  to  be  out  of  his  reach." 

"Where  are  we  going?" 

"To  England,  child— in  the  Yellow  Dove,"  he 
laughed. 

Doris  started  away  from  him,  her  eyes  suddenly 
brilliant  with  excitement,  and  the  prisoner,  who  had 
lain  without  movement,  showed  sudden  signs  of  activ- 
ity, his  eyes  frowning  and  his  head  wagging  in  anxiety. 

"He  wants  to  speak,"  said  Doris. 

Hammersley  bent  over  his  cousin. 

"Will  you  promise  not  to  shout?" 

Von  Winden  nodded  quickly.  So  Hammersley  untied 
the  bandages  that  held  the  handkerchief  in  the  prison- 
er's mouth  and  helped  him  to  a  sitting  posture. 

"You  must  not  go,"  he  stammered  quickly  in  Ger- 
man. "It  is  impossible.  You  will  fail.  I  warn  you." 

"Why  do  you  think  so?" 

"The  machines  are  guarded,  and  the  spark-plugs  of 
your  Taube  have  been  removed  and  hidden." 

"H'm,"  said  Hammersley  thoughtfully.  "Excel- 
lenz  neglects  nothing." 

"You  would  go  to  your  death." 

"Perhaps.  Thanks  for  the  warning,"  said  Hammers- 
ley  bluntly.  "I'm  going  just  the  same." 

286 


THE  FIGHT  IN  THE  CAVERN 

Von  Winden  looked  at  him  in  amazement.  "You  do 
not  believe  me?"  he  asked.  "It  is  the  truth,  I  tell 
you." 

"I  shall  find  a  way." 

"But  there  is  no  way,  You  think  that  I  am  trying 
to  persuade  you  to  escape  by  the  mountains  so  that 
you  may  be  captured  with  the  papers?" 

"Yes.  I  could  not  escape  that  way  now.  You 
know  it." 

"Perhaps  not,  but  what  you  plan  is  insane." 

"Fortune  favors  the  fool.     I've  made  up  my  mind." 

"Then  you  deserve  to  be  shot,"  said  Udo.  "In  the 
forest  at  least  you  would  have  a  chance — Ach — /"  He 
gave  a  guttural  exclamation  and  then:  "Bind  me  and 
leave  me  then — quickly.  It's  good-by." 

"Good-by,  Udo,"  said  Hammersley  with  a  smile. 
"We'll  meet  again,  when  Hesse-Nassau  is  an  EnglisK 
province." 

"Bah,  Cyril,"  said  von  Winden.  "I  have  always 
said  that  you  were  a  fool." 

Hammersley  replaced  the  gag  and  bound  it  into 
place  with  great  care,  smiling  the  while.  Then  he  re- 
moved the  belt  which  contained  his  cousin's  supply  of 
cartridges  and  fastened  it  around  his  own  body  above 
Lindberg's,  loading  the  two  weapons  with  care  and 
placing  them  in  their  holsters. 

Doris  watched  these  preparations  anxiously,  but 
Hammersley  made  her  eat  her  fill  of  chocolate  and  bis- 
cuits and  when  they  had  finished,  he  went  to  the  corner 
of  the  cavern  and  brought  forth  a  large  and  heavy 
parcel  which  he  put  on  the  table  and  opened.  Doris 
saw  that  Captain  von  Winden  was  straightening  on 
the  couch  trying  to  see  what  it  contained.  Hammers- 
ley  did  not  even  glance  in  his  direction.  He  seemed 

287 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


to  know  by  instinct  that  Udo's  curiosity  had  gotten 
the  better  of  his  dignity.  He  opened  the  package  de- 
liberately and  spread  the  contents  dut  upon  the  table. 

"Spare  parts  of  the  Taube,  Udo.  I've  had  them 
here  for  weeks.  I'll  let  you  have  a  peep  at  'em  if  you 
like.  A  socket-wrench,  spark-plugs,  bolts,  nuts  and 
wire — by  Jove — we  might  have  used  that  on  Udo." 

"You  are  afraid  that  what  he  says  is  true,"  whis- 
pered Doris  anxiously.  "Von  Stromberg  is  prepared 
for  you." 

"I  wonder,"  he  said. 


CHAPTER   XXI 
HARE  AND  HOUNDS 

FOR  two  hours  or  more,  Hammersley  and  the 
girl,  taking  turn  and  turn,  watched  the  road 
and  forest  from  the  amphitheater  of  rocks. 
The  road  in  times  of  peace  was  a  short  route  from 
Windenberg  to  Schondorf  and  popular  with  the  mar- 
ket-folk. But  the  restrictions  put  upon  visits  to  Blau- 
felden  had  resulted  in  the  diversion  of  traffic  from  the 
south  slope  of  the  mountains  to  the  longer  road  in  the 
valley  upon  the  other  side.  The  few  who  appeared 
were  men  in  uniform.  From  his  lofty  perch  Ham- 
mersley espied  Captain  Wentz  as  he  hurried  by  with 
several  men  in  an  automobile.  Just  beyond  the  crag 
the  automobile  was  stopped  and  the  men  dismounted 
and  went  on  afoot.  Clearly  they  meant  to  continue  the 
search  abroad.  Hammersley  chuckled. 

"Hare  and  hounds !"  he  muttered  to  himself.  "The 
more  men  to  the  eastward,  the  fewer  to  the  west.  By 
Jove !" 

The  expletive  was  not  unusual  with  Hammersley 
but  the  manner  of  its  utterance  gave  it  importance. 
He  crossed  the  level  quickly  and  peered  again  at  the 
vanishing  figures  of  the  men.  A  new  idea  had  been 
born.  Hare  and  hounds !  A  game  he  had  played  at 
Eton — a  game  as  old  as  sport,  as  old  as  hunting !  And 
for  such  a  prize! 

He  hurried  into  the  cave,  glancing  hurriedly  at  his 
watch.  It  was  noon.  Doris  sat  upon  the  stool  near 

289 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


Udo  von  Winden.  Hammersley  went  over  to  their  cap- 
tive and  examined  his  bonds  and  then  gave  the  girl  a 
few  hasty  instructions. 

"I  am  going  down  below  to  be  gone  two — perhaps 
three  hours." 

A  quick  intake  of  the  breath  escaped  her  but  she 
caught  her  under  Up  in  her  teeth  and  said  nothing. 

"Don't  worry,"  he  went  on  cheerfully,  "I'm  coming 
back.  I'll  promise  you  that.  I've  got  a  plan,"  he 
whispered,  "a  new  plan,  a  noble  plan,  a  plan  that  will 
make  our  game  an  easy  one.  It  will  be  harder  for  you 
than  for  me,  Doris,  because  you've  only  got  to  sit  and 
wait  and  try  to  be  patient." 

While  he  was  talking  he  had  taken  off  the  belts  that 
contained  the  two  pistols,  fastening  one  around  Doris. 
Then  he  took  off  his  leather  jacket  and  put  it  on  the 
table,  fastening  the  other  belt  containing  Udo's  car- 
tridges and  automatic  over  his  gray  sweater.  She 
watched  him  timidly. 

"But  suppose  Graf  von  Winden  should  get  his  arms 
free,"  she  protested.  "I  cannot  shoot  him,  Cyril — I 
cannot — not  that •" 

"He  won't  trouble  you.     I'll  arrange  that."     He 
took   from  his   coat  pocket  the   documents    captured « 
from  the  Emperor's  messenger  and  held  them  up  so 
that  Udo  von  Winden  could  see  them. 

"I  must  leave  you  for  a  while,  Udo.  Awfully  sorry, 
but  it's  most  urgent."  He  laughed.  "You  won't  mind, 
will  you?  Or  try  to  make  things  difficult?" 

He  turned  quickly  and  while  both  the  girl  and  the 
prisoner  wondered  what  he  was  about  to  do,  he  went 
to  the  tin  box  in  the  corner,  brought  out  a  new  candle, 
lighted  it  and  held  the  papers  so  that  the  prisoner 
could  see  them. 

290 


"Do  you  observe  what  I  am  doing,  Udo?  Miss 
Mather  will  sit  here  upon  the  opposite  side  of  the  cave. 
If  you  attempt  to  get  up  from  your  bed,  she  will  burn 
the  papers.  Simple,  isn't  it?  Also  quite  effective. 
She  doesn't  want  to  shoot  you,  Udo — nor  do  I.  And 
of  course  if  the  papers  were  burned,  it  wouldn't  hurt 
England  a  great  deal.  As  long  as  the  papers  are  in 
Germany,  my  capture  may  throw  them  into  German 
hands,  nicht  wdhr?" 

Udo  von  Winden's  head  moved  slightly  from  left  to 
right. 

With  an  auf  tsnedersehen  thrown  over  his  shoulder 
at  Udo,  Hammersley  went  outside  the  cave,  where 
Doris  followed  him.  She  was  on  the  point  of  tears, 
but  she  succeeded  in  a  smile. 

"Don't  worry,  Doris,  old  girl.  Just  going  down 
for  a  stroll  about." 

"But  why,  Cyril?" 

"Goin*  to  throw  'em  off  the  scent,"  he  whispered. 

"But  they're  already  off  the  scent." 

For  answer  he  kissed  her  gently  and  bade  her  keep 
up  her  courage.  Then  he  gave  her  the  papers,  saw 
,>her  inside  the  cave  again  and  in  a  moment  was  gone. 
i  The  more  Hammersley  thought  of  his  plan  the  bet- 
ter it  seemed  to  him.  The  day  was  still  young.  In 
three  hours  he  could  do  much.  He  crossed  the  amphi- 
theater of  rocks  and  followed  the  rocky  gorge  by 
which  he  had  entered  last  night  and  when  he  emerged 
upon  the  farther  side,  paused  and  watched  for  a  while 
to  be  sure  that  Wentz  and  his  men  were  not  in  sight 
and  then  descended  the  face  of  the  rocks  skillfully  and 
in  a  moment  was  creeping  on  all  foilrs  through  the 
underbrush  up  the  side  of  the  mountain.  It  was  steep 
here  and  rugged,  but  in  a  while  he  reached  the  old 

291 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


deer  trail  over  which  he  had  passed  when  he  had 
doubled  on  his  pursuers  last  night.  But  instead  of 
following  it,  he  halted  a  moment  to  listen  and  then 
crossed  into  the  undergrowth  which  at  this  point  was 
so  thick  that  at  twenty  paces  even  he  was  not  visible. 
He  slipped  among  the  treetrunks  and  evergreens,  mov- 
ing rapidly,  making  a  wide  circle  up  the  mountainside 
almost  to  its  top,  descending  then  by  easy  stages,  until 
he  had  covered  four  miles  at  least  when  he  bore  slowly 
down  toward  the  Schondorf  road. 

Hare  and  hounds!  An  exciting  game  even  in  the 
old  days  when  it  meant  athletic  honors,  but  now,  with 
the  alternatives  of  death  as  the  penalty  of  capture  and 
a  great  triumph  as  the  reward  of  escape,  it  made  his 
blood  run  madly.  A  good  game — a  fair  game,  with 
success  as  the  reward  of  intelligence. 

He  planned  carefully.  He  must  be  sure  to  come 
down  into  the  open  at  a  spot  beyond  where  Wentz  and 
his  men  were  searching.  He  knew  the  country  well. 
There  was  a  village  on  the  hillside,  half  a  mile  below. 
It  was  midway  between  Schondorf  and  the  farm  house 
at  Blaufelden.  The  families  of  some  of  the  foresters 
lived  there  and  there  was  telephonic  connection  both 
with  the  farm  and  Windenberg.  All  of  the  men  of 
Mittelwald  who  were  not  in  the  Forest  Service  were  off 
at  the  front  and  the  chances  were  that  unless  Wentz 
and  his  men  were  there,  Hammersley  would  see  only 
women  and  children.  But  he  knew  that  von  Stromberg 
had  neglected  nothing  that  would  give  an  inkling  of 
his  whereabouts  and  his  presence  would  be  at  once 
reported  and  the  chase  begin.  He  was  in  excellent  con- 
dition, trained  a  little  too  fine  perhaps  for  an  English- 
man, but  fit.  He  had  done  little  running  since  leaving 
the  University,  and  though  he  had  lost  some  of  his  old 

292 


HARE  AND  HOUNDS 


speed,  he  could  rely  upon  the  thought  of  his  danger 
and  Doris's  to  provide  the  incentive  for  extraordinary 
effort. 

Mittelwald  lay  in  a  clearing1  similar  to  that  at  Blau- 
felden,  and  its  farms,  if  farms  they  could  be  called, 
clambered  up  the  hillside  and  straggled  over  beyond 
the  road  where  they  were  merged  into  the  undergrowth 
of  young  oaks.  The  Schondorf  road,  curving  this  way 
and  that,  passed  between  the  houses,  which  were  set  a£ 
irregular  intervals,  like  the  strips  on  the  tail  of  a  kite. 
He  went  on  through  the  underbrush,  coming  out  into 
the  open  upon  the  road  at  the  point  where  it  entered 
the  woods  upon  the  Schondorf  side.  Then  he  settled 
his  automatic  loosely  in  its  sheath,  and  went  forward 
boldly.  His  eye  had  marked  the  line  of  the  telephone 
wire  and  followed  it  to  the  gable  of  one  of  the  largest 
houses  in  the  village.  It  was  to  this  house  that  he 
made  his  way.  A  young  woman  was  working  in  the 
garden  and  he  approached  her  quietly  and  politely,  but 
with  an  air  of  a  man  not  to  be  trifled  with,  asked  for 
food.  He  was  aware  that  he  was  unshorn,  covered  with 
mud,  and  that  his  face  was  streaked  with  dirt  and  per- 
spiration, but  he  knew  that  his  appearance  alone  could 
not  have  accounted  for  the  sudden  blanching  of  the 
woman's  face  and  the  air  of  alarm  with  which  she  re- 
garded him.  She  straightened  and  fell  back  two  or 
three  paces  toward  the  house,  unable  to  speak  a  word 
in  reply.  So  he  repeated  his  request,  while  her  mouth 
gaped  at  him  and  her  eyes  grew  rounder.  At  last 
she  managed  to  stammer, 

"Food!     You  are  hungry?" 

"Yes.  Potato  bread — anything,  but  quickly.  I  will 
go  with  you  to  the  house."  And  he  indicated  the 
way. 

293 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


She  stumbled  on  before  him,  her  head  jerking  anx- 
iously this  way  and  that  over  her  shoulder  as  though 
she  feared  at  any  moment  to  receive  a  blow  or  a  shot 
in  the  back.  But  he  followed  her  indoors  and  noted 
with  satisfaction  that  she  appeared  after  all  to  be  a 
woman  of  some  intelligence.  A  thing  that  pleased  him 
further  was  the  telephone  instrument  in  the  corner. 

"Milk,  if  you  please,  and  quickly.  I  will  take  the 
bread  with  me."  And  while  she  timorously  brought 
them  out,  "Who  lives  here?" 

"F-F6rster  Habermehl." 

"Where  is  he?"  peremptorily. 

"At  Windenberg." 

"Oh!     There  are  no  men  here?" 

"No." 

"That  is  well,  then."  He  drank  a  glass  of  milk 
greedily  and  tore  off  a  piece  of  the  loaf.  "You  are 
a  good  girl.  Heaven  will  reward  you."  He  made  his 
way  to  the  door,  looking  out  cautiously,  and  then 
turned  and  put  his  hand  in  his  pocket,  bringing  out  a 
piece  of  money.  "See,"  he  laughed,  "I  have  concluded 
to  reward  you  myself.  Cash.  Much  better  than  hopes, 
nicht  wahr?" 

She  fetched  a  timorous  smile  and  bobbed  shyly. 

"You  will  do  me  a  favor,"  he  said  in  a  whisper  as 
he  went  out  of  the  door,  "if  you  will  tell  no  one  of  my 
visit." 

And  with  that,  chuckling  to  himself,  went  down  the 
road  again  in  the  direction  of  Schondorf,  watching  the 
turn  in  the  road  below  the  village  for  a  glimpse  of 
Wentz  and  his  men.  Before  he  reached  the  edge  of  the 
open  country  he  paused  and  listened.  From  the  house 
that  he  had  visited  came  the  faint  tinkle  of  a  bell. 
Frau  Habermehl  had  lost  no  time.  She  had  notified 

294 


HARE  rAND  HOUNDS 


the  master  of  the  hounds  who  was  clamoring  for  the 
scent. 

Hammersley  walked  around  the  turn  in  the  road, 
which  hid  him  from  the  house,  and  then  went  into  the 
bushes  where  he  sat  on  a  fallen  log,  peeping  through 
the  leaves  toward  the  further  side  of  the  clearing, 
where  General  von  Stromberg's  men  must  appear.  He 
did  not  know  how  long  he  would  have  to  wait.  Half 
an  hour,  perhaps  longer.  If  he  knew  anything  of  von 
Stromberg,  they  would  come  in  every  sort  of  available 
vehicle,  from  a  high-powered  machine  to  a  donkey  cart, 
picking  up  the  misguided  Wentz  and  his  men  upon  the 
way  to  follow  this  new  scent.  It  was  difficult  to  sit 
still  and  wait.  Hammersley  wanted  a  smoke  awfully, 
but  he  chewed  a  twig  instead,  for  he  needed  to  keep 
his  wind  in  good  condition  and  had  purposely  left  his 
pipe  at  the  Thorwald.  He  did  not  want  to  get  too  far 
away  from  Doris.  By  the  way  he  intended  to  return 
he  was  now  at  least  six  miles  from  the  cavern  and 
with  the  mile  or  so  he  must  go  toward  Schondorf  be- 
fore he  turned,  a  good  eight  miles  of  rough  going  lay 
between  himself  and  safety. 

Under  other  circumstances,  he  would  have  greatly 
enjoyed  the  chance  for  a  rest.  With  a  cooler  wind 
from  the  northeast  the  weather  had  cleared  and  the 
period  of  higher  temperatures  through  which  they  had 
passed  seemed  to  be  drawing  to  a  close.  In  spite  of 
the  doubts  that  hung  about  his  plan,  he  couldn't  help 
saying  to  himself  that  he  felt  jolly  fit. 

Twenty  minutes — twenty-five.  He  got  up  and 
stretched  his  long  limbs  luxuriously.  The  hare  was 
ready.  It  was  time  they  cast  forward  the  hounds.  A 
peep  through  the  bushes  showed  him  Frau  Habermehl 
standing  near  her  home  watching  the  road  to  Winden- 

295 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


berg.  So  he  came  out  of  his  place  of  concealment  and 
stood  in  the  open  again  until  he  was  sure  that  she  saw 
him,  when  he  turned  and  went  slowly  toward  Schon- 
dorf.  He  had  planned  his  moment  nicely  for  before 
he  was  out  of  sight  of  the  clearing,  an  automobile  came 
into  view — paused  a  moment  before  Frau  Habermehl 
and  then  came  on  rapidly. 

Hammersley  waited  until  they  had  "viewed"  him 
and  then  cut  into  the  woods  to  his  left,  slipping  from 
tree  to  tree  not  fifty  yards  in  the  cover  when  the 
machine  came  to  a  stop  and  the  men  jumped  down  and 
came  after  him.  He  did  not  know  who  was  in  com- 
mand and  did  not  care,  but  just  to  show  them  that  he 
was  the  man  they  were  after,  he  risked  a  shot  with  his 
automatic  and  then  sped  along  rapidly,  working  up 
the  mountainside,  following  in  a  general  way  the  direc- 
tion of  Schondorf.  He  heard  them  plunging  after  him 
in  full  cry  and  the  sound  of  their  footsteps  made 
him  move  at  a  rare  pace.  He  knew  well  this  piece  of 
woods,  and  in  a  moment  came  to  a  path  which  curved 
to  the  right,  leading  straight  up  the  mountain.  When 
he  reached  it  he  paused  to  look  over  his  shoulder.  It 
was  difficult  to  see  the  green  uniforms,  but  there  was  a 
flash  of  light  from  a  patch  of  fir  trees  and  a  twig  just 
above  his  head  fell  across  his  path.  His  curiosity  was 
satisfied.  He  shut  his  mouth  and,  breathing  through 
his  nostrils,  went  off  with  a  burst  of  speed  which  put 
him  around  a  turn  in  the  path  before  any  of  the  green 
uniforms  had  come  into  sight.  He  had  them  coming1 
now,  two — three  men — one  little  one  and  two  big  ones. 
He  caught  a  glimpse  of  them  in  a  moment  when  the 
path  came  into  a  glade  of  rocks  and  barrens.  There 
was  his  danger.  A  chance  shot  might  get  him  when 
they  emerged,  before  he  found  the  cover  again.  But 

296 


leaping  from  rock  to  rock  he  managed  to  reach  the 
path  upon  the  other  side,  and  their  shots  went  wild. 

When  he  reached  cover  he  halted  a  moment  for  a 
breath,  firing  a  shot  in  the  direction  of  the  advancing 
men,  who  promptly  dropped  to  cover.  And  when  they 
came  on  again,  he  had  gained  a  clear  lead  of  a  hundred 
yards  or  more. 

He  had  foreseen  his  greatest  danger — of  being 
caught  in  thick  underbrush  and  surrounded — so  he  kept 
to  the  main  path,  only  leaving  it  for  a  smaller  and 
more  tortuous  one,  when  the  other  turned  down  the 
mountain  toward  the  road  again.  Since  the  exchange 
of  shots  his  pursuers  had  become  more  cautious  and 
when  they  reached  the  fork  of  the  paths  they  stopped, 
sweating  in  their  heavy  coats  and  cursing  lustily,  while 
they  debated  upon  the  question  as  to  which  path  he 
had  taken.  The  hounds  were  at  fault.  From  a  point 
above,  he  could  see  them  quite  clearly  and  one  of  them 
was  the  Fatalist  who  had  been  his  jailor  last  evening. 
Just  to  discover  whether  he  was  sincere  in  his  philoso- 
phy, Hammersley  sent  a  bullet  skipping  above  his- 
head.  He  ducked  and  Hammersley  laughed. 

"Silly  ass!"  he  muttered.  "Fatalist!  Fatality  if 
I'd  aimed  at  him!" 

And  he  was  off  again,  for  other  men  had  joined  the 
leaders  and  the  scent  was  hot.  He  carried  them  fast, 
up  to  the  bald  top  of  the  mountain  where  the  going  was 
faster,  and  down  in  the  valley  to  the  right.  They  had 
gained  nothing  on  him  and  Hammersley  with  his  second 
wind  was  breathing  more  easily,  but  it  was  almost  time 
to  double.  Here  was  as  good  a  place  as  another  for 
the  pack  of  them  to  spend  the  afternoon  and  he  made 
up  his  mind  to  lose  them  without  further  ado.  There 
was  only  one  runner  in  the  lot  and  he  was  the  Fatalist, 
20  297 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


though  how  he  had  ever  happened  to  learn  to  run  in 
the  Imperial  Navy,  Hammersley  had  not  the  time  or 
inclination  to  decide.  If  his  philosophy  limped,  his 
legs  at  least  were  strong  and  he  came  on  rapidly  leap- 
ing like  a  young  buck  toward  the  opening  over  the 
crest  of  the  knob  into  which  Hammersley  had  disap- 
peared. A  short  way  down  was  a  spur  of  rock,  the 
beginnings  of  a  ridge  which  cut  out  into  the  hills, 
the  watershed  of  two  rills  which  leaped  from  rock  to 
rock  to  the  valleys  below.  Hammersley  chose  the 
right-hand  valley  for  the  going  was  better,  and  went 
down  it  at  top  speed  for  a  quarter  of  a  mile  or  more, 
pausing  where  the  path  led  into  the  underbrush  and 
pines  until  the  Fatalist  should  view  him  when  he  dis- 
appeared, and  then  turning  into  the  thicket  circled 
quickly  to  the  left,  and  taking  advantage  of  every 
cover,  slowly  and  carefully  climbed  the  ridge  to  a 
place  of  vantage  where  he  crouched  and  waited,  to  have 
the  satisfaction  a  moment  later  of  seeing  his  ex-jailor, 
weapon  in  hand,  go  plunging  down  the  path  past  his 
place  of  concealment. 

Hammersley  listened  a  moment  to  the  sounds  of 
crashing  feet  in  front  of  him  and  behind,  and  then, 
creeping  slowly  and  making  what  speed  he  could, 
crossed  the  ridge  and  in  a  while  was  out  of  sight  and 
hearing  of  them.  He  feared  little  in  crossing  the  other 
valley,  for  his  pursuers  were  strung  out  in  a  line,  each 
in  sight  of  the  other,  and  would  follow  the  leader  like 
a  flock  of  sheep.  But  there  was  little  time  to  waste 
and  the  greatest  test  of  Hammersley's  endurance  and 
Doris's  was  to  come.  For  two,  perhaps  three  hours, 
these  men  would  search  for  him,  and  more  would  come. 
The  Fatalist  would  bear  the  brunt  of  their  failure,  but 
in  the  meanwhile  Hammersley  must  reach  the  cave  in 

298 


HARE  AND  HOUNDS 


the  Thorwald  and  take  Doris  to  Blaufelden.  The  first 
part  of  the  return  run  must  be  done  at  top  speed  to 
gave  time  which  would  be  needed  later.  So  when  he 
crossed  the  second  valley  in  safety  and  had  reached  the 
mountaintop,  Hammersley  abandoned  all  caution,  risk- 
ing the  chance  of  meeting  Wentz  and  his  men,  and  with 
a  sharp  lookout  ahead  of  him  went  as  fast  as  he  could 
along  the  ridge,  finding  at  last  the  trail  by  which  he 
had  come  earlier  in  the  day,  down  which  he  ran  with  a 
long  stride  which  covered  the  four  miles  in  less  than 
half  an  hour.  He  reached  the  upper  passage  to  the 
cave  in  safety  and  in  a  moment  was  safe  behind  the 
projecting  bowlders  of  the  amphitheater.  He  was 
breathing  heavily,  and  the  sweat  was  pouring  from 
him.  Doris  was  watching  for  him. 

"They're  following  you?  They're  coming?"  she 
asked  nervously. 

He  quieted  her  and  led  her  inside  the  cave,  where 
he  dropped  for  a  moment  of  rest  upon  the  stool.  Doris 
watched  him  anxiously.  In  a  moment  he  was  laughing. 

"Oh,  I  led  'em  a  rippin'  run  straight  for  Schon- 
dorf,"  he  gasped.  "They're  pattin'  me  out — six  miles 
from  here — on  the  top  of  the  Schmalzberg.  Lord !"  he 
grinned,  "but  that  was  a  breather." 

She  brought  him  the  pitcher  of  water  but  he  only 
rinsed  his  mouth. 

"How  are  you  feelin'?    Fit?" 

She  nodded. 

"Right-o.     Come  along.     We're  off." 

He  went  over  to  the  prisoner  and  examined  his  bonds 
carefully. 

"Poor  old  Udo !"  he  muttered  in  German.  "I've  got 
to  go.  You  might  worry  through  those  strings.  It's 
the  only  way,  because  I'm  not  leaving  any  matches." 

299 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


He  leaned  over  and  patted  his  cousin  on  the  shoul- 
der. "Good-by,  Udo,"  he  said.  "We'll  meet  again, 
some  day,  as  friends,  my  cousin — as  friends." 

Von  Winden's  eyes  met  Hammersley's  and  then  he 
lowered  his  head  upon  the  balsam  boughs. 

There  was  no  time  for  amenities.  Hammersley 
slipped  on  his  leather  jacket  and  cap,  fastening  his  belt 
outside,  reloaded  his  automatic,  filled  the  pockets  of 
Doris's  coat  with  biscuit  and  chocolate,  then  made  a 
bundle  of  the  tools  and  spare  parts,  which  he  selected 
carefully,  and  in  a  moment  he  and  Doris  were  outside 
on  the  ridge,  peering  over  toward  the  road  below.  All 
was  quiet,  and  they  descended  carefully  to  the  pro- 
jecting rock,  pausing  there  to  listen  again.  The  ma- 
chine of  Wentz,  which  had  been  left  near  the  crag,  had 
gone  on  toward  Mittelwald.  Hammersley  smiled.  The 
plan  had  worked.  It  was  working.  They  must  suc- 
ceed. 

Down  in  the  bushes  at  the  foot  of  the  crag  by  the 
road  they  paused  again,  listening,  and  then  Ham- 
mersley went  forward,  peering  out,  up  and  down  the 
road.  Silence.  Solitude.  Leading  the  way,  with  the 
hand  of  the  girl  in  his,  he  quickly  crossed  and  plunged 
into  the  undergrowth  silently  until  they  had  reached  a 
distance  which  would  defy  detection  from  the  road. 
Then  Hammersley  bore  to  the  right  and  went  on  rap- 
idly. 

Doris's  heart  was  beating  high  with  excitement  and 
hope.  The  Yellow  Dove!  Could  they  reach  the  han- 
gar safely,  and  when  there  could  they  tune  up  unde- 
tected? The  success  of  the  venture  seemed  impossible 
for  there  must  still  be  men  on  guard  at  Blaufelden — 
someone !  But  as  they  went  on  through  the  wood,  she 
found  some  of  the  contagion  of  Cyril's  audacity.  He 

300 


HARE  AND  HOUNDS 


seemed  tireless.  When  they  reached  a  trail  which  led 
in  the  desired  direction,  without  speaking  to  her,  he  set 
forward  into  a  steady  jog  trot  which  put  them  well 
upon  their  way.  He  turned  around  from  time  to  time 
and  watched  her,  and  when  he  saw  that  she  was  nearly 
blown  he  slowed  down  to  a  walk  and  explained  his  plan. 

"Jolly  flyin'  weather  this.  Once  we're  in  the  air 
they  can't  stop  us,  Doris.  She's  armored  around  the 
cockpit  and  engines,  and  they  haven't  anything  heavier 
than  a  rifle  at  Blaufelden.  We'll  go  up  the  Rhine  to 
the  sea,  flyin'  high.  Then  cut  to  the  left  along  the 
coast,  as  far  as  the  French  line,  and  then  go  in  to 
Ypres  and  from  there  to  General  French's  headquar- 
ters. You  can  easily  tell  by  the  lines  of  trenches.  I 
want  you  to  listen  carefully.  I've  got  two  seats  and 
double  control.  The  arrangement  is  just  the  same  as 
on  your  Nieuport,  only  she  answers  her  control  much 
more  slowly.  The  wheel  is  on  a  universal  joint;  the 
gas,  on  your  wheel,  the  spark  to  your  left,  the  mag- 
neto, a  button  in  front  of  you.  She  starts  by  com- 
pressed air." 

"But  the  exhaust,  Cyril,"  she  gasped,  "before  we 
go — it's  only  a  few  hundred  yards  from  the  shed  to 
the  house !" 

"We're  going  to  risk  that.  With  luck  we'll  be 

movin'  in  three  minutes,  and  then "  He  paused 

grimly. 

"And  then ?" 

"I'd  like  to  see  a  dozen  stop  us." 

He  had  such  perfect  assurance  that  all  doubt  left 
her.  Indeed,  to  Doris,  he  seemed  endowed  with  some 
hidden  fount  of  initiative  and  inspiration,  and  she  was 
willing  to  believe  anything  he  told  her.  They  went  on 
rapidly,  while  he  answered  all  her  questions  and  gave 

301 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


her  final  instructions,  until  at  last  they  reached  a  path, 
the  same,  he  told  her,  by  which  they  had  come  from 
the  farm  last  night.  They  started  up  a  frightened 
deer,  which  fled  away  from  them,  but  they  didn't  pause 
until  the  path  cut  sharply  to  the  right  and  through 
the  bushes  they  could  see  the  buildings  of  Blaufelden. 
There  they  stopped  and  Hammersley  went  forward  to 
investigate. 

In  the  direction  of  the  farmhouse  was  no  sign  of 
animation  except  the  thread  of  smoke  that  rose  from 
the  kitchen  chimney.  The  back  of  the  hangar  was  just 
in  front  of  them,  a  bare  wall  of  wood,  a  hundred  and 
fifty  feet  long.  The  opening  was  upon  the  other  side, 
to  the  west,  a  huge  canvas  flap,  toggled  at  the  bottom 
to  rings  in  the  sill.  Hammersley  came  back  and  whis- 
pered to  Doris  to  follow  him.  Until  the  starting  of 
the  engine,  this  was  the  most  hazardous  part  of  the 
proceeding,  for,  if  they  were  seen  from  the  house,  there 
would  be  no  time  for  Hammersley  to  put  the  engines 
in  order.  He  led  her  south  to  a  point  in  the  woods 
where  the  storehouse  hid  them  from  the  main  buildings, 
when,  crouching  low  to  avoid  possible  detection  from 
the  Windenberg  road,  they  covered  the  fifty  yards  to 
the  storehouse  and  waited  again,  completely  hidden 
from  all  points  except  the  forest  behind  them,  while 
Cyril  looked  around  the  edge  of  the  building,  and  then 
beckoned  to  her  to  follow.  In  a  moment  they  had 
slipped  between  the  end  of  the  canvas  flap  and  the 
door,  and  were  within  the  dusky  interior  of  the  shed. 

Before  them  stretched  the  wide  expanse  of  the  Yel- 
low Dove,  a  huge  biplane  with  a  spread,  as  nearly  as 
Doris  could  figure  it,  of  a  hundred  and  twenty  feet 
from  tip  to  tip.  She  stood  before  it  in  wonder  and 
awe,  admiring  its  fine  lines  and  sturdy  appearance.  A 

302 


HARE  AND  HOUNDS 


dragon-fly  her  Nieuport  was  beside  this  great  eagle  of 
the  air.  The  other  machine,  an  Etrich  monoplane, 
which  was  used  by  Udo  von  Winden,  seemed  lost  in 
the  shadows  of  the  larger  wings.  Doris  stood  quite 
still,  as  Cyril  had  directed,  while  he  moved  off  noise- 
lessly in  the  dim  light.  She  saw  him  slipping  from  one 
spot  to  another,  quickly  examining  this  and  that,  and 
at  last  saw  him  climb  up  into  the  machine  with  his  kit 
of  tools.  She  came  nearer  as  he  whispered  down  to 
her: 

"They've  taken  out  some  plugs.  I'll  have  'em  in 
shortly."  And  then :  "Go  around  the  lower  plane  and 
tell  me  if  the  guys  are  all  taut." 

She  did  as  he  asked,  while  she  heard  him  above  work- 
ing over  the  engines. 

"How  long  will  it  take?"  she  whispered. 

"I  can't  tell — twenty  minutes,  perhaps.  The  petrol 
tanks  are  empty,  too." 

"I  want  to  help." 

"Are  the  wires  all  fast?" 

"Yes." 

"Good.  Then  bring  me  the  hose  from  the  petrol 
tank.  It's  there  beside  you  in  the  corner.  You  can 
run  it  in  while  I'm  workin'." 

She  did  as  she  was  bid,  climbing  up  with  a  feeling  of 
exultation  into  the  tall  machine  beside  him. 

"The  reserve  tank  first — "  he  whispered.  "Up  here 
between  the  planes.  Here's  a  wrench.  The  opening  is 
on  the  top." 

They  worked  side  by  side,  noiselessly  and  efficiently, 
Hammersley  fitting  the  missing  spark-plugs  and  con- 
necting a  new  coil  wire  which  had  been  removed.  He 
looked  over  the  machine  carefully,  but  could  find  noth- 
ing else  missing,  or  even  needing  adjustment,  for  he 

303 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


had  taken  care  yesterday  morning,  as  was  his  custom, 
to  go  over  the  engine  with  his  own  hands.  The  impair- 
ment of  the  engine  was  of  no  serious  consequence,  and 
intended  only  to  delay.  Von  Stromberg  had  not 
counted  on  such  a  chance  for  readjustment  as  this,  or 
upon  Hammersley's  reserve  supply  of  necessary  ma- 
terial. And  unless  they  had  done  something  else  that 
he  could  not  discover — but  what?  While  he  worked 
Hammersley  tried  to  think,  casting  between  times  anx- 
ious glances  at  the  gears,  the  propellers  and  the  con- 
trol wires.  The  reserve  tank  of  petrol  was  filled  and 
the  hose  was  steadily  pouring  the  stuff  into  the  one  un- 
der the  forward  cockpit,  which  was  full  by  the  time  the 
plugs  and  wires  were  all  adjusted. 

"That  will  be  enough,  Doris,"  he  whispered.  "We 
only  need  to  get  to  the  English  lines.  There's  no  time 
for  more." 

She  saw  him  try  the  wheel,  watching  the  connecting 
gear  keenly,  and,  when  he  ordered  it,  she  climbed  down 
into  the  rear  seat.  He  gave  her  a  leather  coat,  gloves 
and  helmet,  and  buckled  her  into  her  seat.  Then,  in 
a  state  of  nervous  tension,  they  waited.  She  saw  Cyril 
climb  down,  coolly  wiping  his  hands  with  a  piece  of 
waste,  restore  the  hose  to  its  place,  and  then  peer  out 
from  a  slit  in  the  canvas  door.  Then  he  bent  over, 
and  running  quickly  along  the  flap  from  side  to  side, 
one  after  another  quickly  unfastened  the  toggles  which 
held  it  in  place. 

"We've  got  to  chance  it  now,"  he  whispered  up  to 
her.  "If  she  doesn't  work — God  help  us " 

"But  the  canvas " 

"The  machine  will " 

He  stopped  abruptly,  for  Doris's  eyes  were  staring 
in  panic  at  something  behind  him.  Hammersley  whirled 

304 


HARE  AND  HOUNDS 


quickly  toward  the  slit  in  the  canvas,  his  automatic  in 
his  hand.  There,  not  four  paces  away,  blinking  into 
the  dusk,  stood  the  tall  figure  of  His  Excellency,  Gen- 
eral Graf  von  Stroraberg. 


CHAPTER   XXII 

FROM  THE  HEIGHTS 

'AMMERSLEY  had  him  covered,  and  the  Gen- 
eral made  no  move  to  defend  himself.  He 
bent  his  head  and  folded  his  arms,  peering 
into  Hammersley's  eyes  like  a  short-sighted  man  trying 
to  adjust  his  vision  to  an  unaccustomed  task.  But  his 
frown  relaxed  almost  immediately  and  his  lips  sepa- 
rated, showing  a  gleam  of  teeth. 

"My  compliments,  Herr  Hammersley,"  he  said. 
"You  have  done  well.  It  pleases  me  to  meet  at 
last " 

"Move  your  right  hand  again  the  fraction  of  an 
inch  and  I  will  shoot,  Excellenz,"  said  Hammersley,  in 
the  sharp,  quick  accents  of  a  resolute  man. 

Von  Stromberg  only  smiled  more  broadly.  But  he 
did  not  move.  He  had  seen  enough  of  Herr  Ham- 
mersley to  respect  his  sincerity. 

"I  have  staked  my  professional  reputation  upon 
your  presence  elsewhere,  Herr  Hammersley.  Instinct, 
perhaps,  led  me  here.  I  do  not  know  what  else.  But 
I  came  alone.  I  am  not  armed." 

Hammersley  was  in  no  mood  for  trifling  and  time 
was  flying.  Better  to  shoot  the  man  and  be  done  with 
it,  but  he  couldn't,  somehow.  Instead  he  searched  him 
quickly  for  weapons. 

"You're  too  late,  Excellenz.  I  am  sorry,  but  I  have 
no  time  for  conversation." 

"You  will  at  least  let  me  pay  you  the  compliment  of 
306 


FROM  THE  HEIGHTS 


saying  that  the  Prussian  blood  in  you  has  made  you 
the  most  brilliant  Englishman  I  have  ever  met." 

"I  have  no  time  to  match  phrases  with  you " 

"Ach,  but  you  match  what  is  much  more  important 
— a  genius  for  dissimulation.  Yesterday  you  disap- 
pointed me,  Herr  Hammersley,  with  your  talk  of  plans 
— of  fortifications — of  Strassburg.  I  had  been  hoping 
that  you  were  playing  a  deeper  game,  something  that 
would  relieve  the  flat  monotony  of  my  routine.  You 
were  to  save  me  from  utter  boredom.  It  is  true.  I 
had  hoped  that.  I  was  disappointed  when  I  thought 
that  you  were  like  the  others.  Disappointed !  I  should 
have  known " 

"And  now  that  I  have  the  papers — what  are  you  go- 
ing to  do  about  it?"  asked  Hammersley  with  a  touch 
of  bravado. 

Von  Stromberg  shrugged. 

"I  confess  that  I  am  so  rapt  in  admiration  of 
your  genius  that  I  am  at  a  loss — I  must  yield  to  the 
inevitable.  But  I  am  happy  in  the  knowledge  that  only 
a  person  of  the  skill  of  Herr  Hammersley  could  have 
succeeded  in  outwitting  the  head  of  the  Secret  Service 
Department  of  the  Empire." 

"Enough  of  this !"  Hammersley  broke  in.  "I  should 
kill  you,  General  von  Stromberg,  but  I  won't  if  you 
obey  me  promptly.  Stand  aside — over  there — against 
the  wall.  If  you  move,  I'll  shoot.  I'm  going  out  of 
here." 

Von  Stromberg  did  as  he  was  bidden,  and  his  long 
strides  and  erect  carriage  had  lost  none  of  their  dig- 
nity. When  he  reached  the  wall  he  turned  with  a  smile. 
Then  he  said  suavely: 

"I  fear,  Herr  Hammersley,  that  you  will  not  go 
forth  as  rapidly  as  you  like." 

307 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


Hammersley  only  laughed  at  him. 

"We'll  see  about  that."  He  took  a  stride  to  the 
canvas  curtain  and  had  a  quick  look  outside.  And 
then  to  the  girl:  "Crank  her,  Doris !  The  compressed 
air — the  button  to  the  left  beside  the  wheel !" 

There  was  a  long  pause  when  Doris  reached  forward 
in  her  seat.  A  pause  filled  with  meanings  for  Ham- 
mersley, in  which  his  fate  and  hers,  was  hanging  in  the 
balance.  Von  Stromberg  seemed  to  read  his  thoughts, 
and  the  wolfish  smile  spread  again  over  his  face. 

"It  is  just  possible,"  he  said  blandly,  "that  some- 
one may  have  been  tinkering  with  the  machinery." 

There  was  another  long  silence — a  moment  of  agony 
for  Hammersley. 

"Yes,  7  have,"  roared  Hammersley  exultantly. 

For  just  then  there  was  a  violent  explosion,  deafen- 
ing in  the  enclosed  space,  like  the  roar  of  a  giant 
cracker  would  have  been — another — and  then'  more 
rapidly  another,  followed  by  a  number  of  concussions, 
like  a  pack  of  giant  crackers  catching  intermittently 
and  then  in  quick  succession. 

General  von  Stromberg's  smile  faded — then  vanished 
in  a  look  of  inefficacy  and  dismay.  He  was  senile. 
Hammersley's  grin  derided  him.  Speech  was  impossi- 
ble, but  the  muzzle  of  the  automatic  was  as  eloquent  as 
before.  One  more  explosion  or  six,  for  that  matter, 
would  add  little  to  the  din.  Von  Stromberg's  life  hung 
by  a  hair  at  that  moment  and  he  knew  it.  Still  cov- 
ering His  Excellency,  who  was  now  glancing  at  the  slit 
in  the  curtain  beside  him,  Hammersley  climbed  up  to 
the  seat  in  front  of  Doris  in  the  cockpit  of  the  ma- 
chine. And  just  as  he  was  putting  a  leg  over,  His 
Excellency  took  a  quick  glance  upward,  which  had  in 
it  a  world  of  expression — and  bolted. 

308 


FROM  THE  HEIGHTS 


Hammersley's  shot  must  have  missed.  He  looked 
around  at  Doris  and  laughed,  and  she  saw  the  light  of 
triumph  that  rode  in  his  eyes.  The  exhaust  was  roar- 
ing steadily  now,  but  with  one  hand  on  the  wheel  and 
in  the  other  his  automatic,  Hammersley  sat  motionless, 
watching  the  slits  in  the  canvas  for  the  men  that  he 
knew  must  come  in  a  moment.  At  a  gesture  of  his, 
Doris  sank  low  in  the  cockpit,  her  hands  on  the  wheel, 
watching,  too,  and  ready  to  do  her  share  as  Cyril  had 
directed.  One — two  minutes  passed — she  seemed  to 
be  counting  the  seconds.  The  body  of  the  machine  was 
trembling  as  though  with  the  excitement  of  the  moment 
and  the  explosions  had  blended  into  one  continuous 
roar.  Cyril  threw  the  clutch  in  and  the  note  lowered 
as  the  propellers  began  to  whirr.  The  huge  fabric 
jumped  forward,  gathering  momentum  as  it  went,  until 
by  the  time  it  reached  the  canvas  curtain  in  front  of 
it,  it  was  going  as  fast  as  a  man  would  run.  The 
weight  of  the  heavy  flap  retarded  it  for  a  moment,  but 
it  went  steadily  on,  and  the  canvas  was  pushed  out- 
ward— then  rose — it  seemed  to  Doris  like  the  curtain 
on  a  melodrama.  Men  were  running  up,  shooting  as 
they  ran.  They  clutched  at  the  toggles  and  swung  off 
their  feet,  falling  in  a  heap  upon  the  ground.  She  saw 
a  man,  the  only  one  not  in  uniform,  take  hold  of  the 
lower  plane  and  try  to  stop  the  momentum.  It  was 
John  Rizzio.  She  saw  his  face  for  a  second,  dark, 
handsome,  smiling.  Cyril  rose  in  his  seat  and  their 
weapons  streamed  fire.  Rizzio  moved  backward  with 
the  machine,  still  clinging  to  the  lower  plane,  and  then 
disappeared,  passing  under  it,  just  where  the  blades  of 
the  right-hand  propeller  were. 

A  slight  shock  and  a  shapeless  mass  went  rolling 
over  and  over  until  it  brought  up  motionless  against 

309 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


the  jamb  of  the  door.  Two  other  men,  Foresters, 
warned  by  Rizzio's  fate,  sprang  aside  with  horror  in 
their  eyes.  Doris  sank  lower  in  her  seat,  her  cheeks 
bloodless,  grasping  her  wheel  with  icy  hands,  filled 
with  horror.  Cyril  had  sunk  down  in  his  seat,  clutch- 
ing at  the  side  of  the  cockpit,  his  weapon  falling  from 
his  fingers.  With  an  effort  she  steadied  her  hold  on 
the  wheel.  The  canvas  curtain  had  passed  over  their 
heads.  They  were  in  the  open.  To  the  right,  coming 
from  the  Windenberg  road,  a  machine  filled  with  men 
was  dashing  across  the  field  before  them  at  a  diagonal 
which  would  intercept  them.  She  heard  shots  near  at 
hand.  Cyril  did  not  move.  She  had  a  glimpse  of  Gen- 
eral von  Stromberg,  who  had  snatched  a  pistol  from 
the  hand  of  the  nearest  soldier  and  fired. 

They  were  moving  fast.  But  the  automobile  in  the 
field  before  them  seemed  to  be  moving  faster — Captain 
Wentz  and  four  men!  She  saw  Cyril's  hand  rise  in 
front  of  her,  pointing  to  the  left  to  avoid  them,  but 
Wentz  came  on.  The  Yellow  Dove  was  still  running 
on  its  wheels.  She  saw  the  danger.  Wentz  was  aiming 
at  a  collision.  She  pulled  her  wheel  toward  her  in- 
stinctively and  the  Yellow  Dove  rose,  skimming  the 
ground.  She  felt  it  lifting,  slowly,  now  rapidly.  The 
automobile  seemed  about  to  strike  them.  Another  jerk 
on  the  wheel  and  the  skids  of  the  Yellow  Dove  just 
grazed  the  wind-shield  of  the  machine,  and  a  soldier 
leaped  into  the  air,  trying  to  catch  a  hold,  missed  and 
tumbled  to  the  ground.  In  the  car  men  were  shout- 
ing like  demons,  and  a  volley  of  pistol  bullets  pierced 
the  planes.  She  felt  them  strike  the  armored  body, 
but  she  sank  lower,  clutching  her  wheel. 

Clear?  They  must  be.  A  second  of  agonized  sus- 
pense and  she  saw  Cyril  turn  his  head  and  look  down 

310 


FROM  THE  HEIGHTS 


behind  them.  His  face  was  white  but  his  eye  flashed 
triumph.  His  lips  moved,  but  she  heard  nothing. 
Safe?  They  must  be.  The  Yellow  Dove,  mounting 
easily,  had  cleared  the  trees  at  the  border  of  the  farm 
and  before  the  eyes  of  the  girl  stretched  only  undulat- 
ing surfaces  of  gray  and  green. 

In  front  of  her  Cyril  lay  back  in  his  seat.  His 
hands  clutched  the  sides  of  the  cockpit.  O  God!  She 
had  not  been  sure  before  what  his  sudden  lassitude  had 
meant.  He  had  been  hit!  John  Rizzio!  He  turned 
around  and  smiled  at  her  and  one  hand,  stretched  be- 
fore him,  pointed  up  and  to  the  right.  Her  throat 
closed  and  her  heart  seemed  to  stop  its  beating  and 
the  Dove  for  a  moment  swung  and  tossed  like  a  drunken 
thing,  but  with  an  effort  she  inclined  her  wheel  and  met 
it.  Cyril  again  raised  his  fingers  and  pointed  upwards. 
Higher!  She  tipped  the  wheel  further  toward  her. 
His  gesture  was  like  an  appeal  to  Heaven — a  symbol 
of  his  faith  in  her  and  in  the  God  of  both.  She  set  her 
lips  and  obeyed.  Broken  and  helpless — perhaps  dying, 
he  was  putting  his  faith  in  her.  She  must  not  fail  him 
now. 

She  kept  her  gaze  before  her  over  Cyril's  head,  try- 
ing to  gain  strength  for  what  she  had  to  do,  thinking 
that  she  was  in  England — at  Ashwater  Park — and  that 
the  wheel  she  held  was  that  of  her  own  little  Nieuport. 
There  seemed  to  be  little  difference  between  them,  ex- 
cept that  the  Yellow  Dove  was  easier  to  manage.  It 
responded  to  the  slightest  touch,  and  had  a  magnificent 
steadiness  that  reassured  Doris  as  to  her  ability  to  do 
the  thing  that  was  required  of  her. 

The  mountains  had  fallen  below  them  and  the  hori- 
zon had  widened  until  it  blurred  into  the  haze  of  the 
distance.  She  looked  down  on  what  seemed  to  her  a 

311 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


plain  of  purple  velvet  touched  with  lighter  patches  of 
orange  and  violet.  Before  her  the  sun  was  setting 
blood  red  in  a  sea  of  amber.  She  mounted  above  it  into 
the  clear  empyrean  of  azure,  higher — higher  yet.  She 
felt  the  exhilaration  of  large  spaces,  the  joy  of  con- 
quest over  all  material  things.  Death  even  did  not  dis- 
may her — Cyril's — her  own.  She  seemed  to  have 
crossed  at  a  bound,  from  the  realm  of  substance  into 
that  of  immateriality.  Her  soul  already  sang  in  ac- 
cord with  the  angels.  They  were  mated.  She  and  Cy- 
ril — mated!  And  even  Death  should  not  separate 
them. 

Dusk  fell  slowly  below  them,  like  a  black  giant  strid- 
ing across  the  face  of  the  earth,  but  all  was  still  bright 
and  clear  about  her.  The  red  ball  of  the  sun  would 
not  set.  She  was  going  upward — upward  into  the 
realm  of  continuous  and  perfect  day.  Below  her  a 
thread  of  silk,  thrown  carelessly  upon  a  purple  carpet. 
The  Rhine!  She  saw  Cyril's  hand  come  up  and  move 
feebly  to  the  right.  She  turned  slowly  and  followed 
its  direction.  The  Rhine — she  remembered  Cyril's 
words  back  there  in  the  woods.  She  must  follow  the 
Rhine  to  the  sea  and  then  turn  to  the  westward  along 
the  coast.  She  would  do  it.  She  must. 

Cyril  was  hurt — but  perhaps  not  badly.  His  ges- 
tures reassured  her.  He  moved  his  hand  in  a  level 
line  in  front  of  him  and  she  understood.  They  had 
mounted  high  enough.  The  barograph  showed  four 
thousand  feet.  She  brought  the  wheel  up  to  normal 
and  held  it  there.  The  wind  burned  her  cheeks  and  she 
knew  from  the  changes  in  the  river  below  her  that  the 
speed  of  the  Yellow  Dove  was  terrific — ninety  miles — 
a  hundred — a  hundred  and  twenty — an  hour — perhaps 
much  more — she  did  not  know.  The  speed  got  into  her 

312 


FROM  THE  HEIGHTS 


blood.  Faster,  faster,  was  the  song  her  pulses  sung. 
She  was  a  part  of  the  Yellow  Dove  now,  and  it  was  a 
part  of  herself.  Its  wings  were  her  wings  and  its  in- 
stinct was  in  her  own  fingertips. 

Night  fell  slowly,  a  luminous  night  full  of  stars. 
She  seemed  to  be  hanging  among  them — to  be  one  of 
them — watching  the  earth  pass  under  her.  Two  of 
them  gleamed  like  St.  Elmo's  lights  at  the  tips  of  the 
planes.  The  sky  was  clear  and  bright,  of  a  deep  bluish 
purple,  like  the  skies  she  remembered  high  up  on  the 
plains  of  the  great  West  in  her  own  country.  The  air 
was  bitter  cold  upon  her  face  and  she  blessed  Cyril's 
foresight  for  the  helmet,  gloves  and  old  leather  jacket 
that  he  had  put  on  her  in  the  hangar.  In  front  of  her 
Cyril  leaned  slightly  to  one  side  and  his  right  hand 
touched  a  button,  throwing  an  electric  light  in  a  hood 
in  front  of  the  wheel  upon  the  face  of  the  compass 
and  barograph.  She  glanced  at  them  quickly — four 
thousand  feet — the  direction  north-northwest.  She 
longed  to  speak  to  him  and  shouted  his  name.  But  in 
the  roar  of  the  engines  she  could  not  hear  her  own 
voice. 

He  still  sat  up,  the  fingers  of  his  right  hand  moving 
from  time  to  time  as  he  gave  her  the  direction.  She 
thanked  God  for  that — he  was  alive — he  would  live 
until  they  reached  Ypres.  He  must  live.  He  must. 
She  set  her  teeth  upon  the  words  and  willed  it,  praying 
at  last  aloud  with  lips  that  screamed  yet  made  no 
sound. 

Below  her  moved  the  lights  of  a  city.  She  did  not 
know  what  it  was.  Cologne,  perhaps.  She  had  passed 
it  yesterday  morning  in  the  train  with  John  Rizzio. 
Yesterday!  It  seemed  a  year  ago.  Cologne — then 
Dusseldorf.  The  river  was  not  difficult  to  follow.  She 
21  313 


THE  YELLOW  DOFE 


lost  it  once  and  then  moving  at  a  lower  altitude  she 
found  it  quickly.  But  the  old  terror  was  gripping  her 
now.  Cyril!  His  fingers  no  longer  moved  directing 
her.  He  had  sunk  lower  in  his  seat  and  his  head  had 
fallen  back  upon  one  side,  his  face  upturned  to  the 
stars.  Was  he ? 

She  put  the  thought  from  her.  It  was  impossible. 
She  had  prayed.  Not  that  .  .  .  He  had  only  fainted 
from  pain,  from  sickness.  Not  dead — she  would  not — 
could  not  believe  it.  She  longed  to  reach  forward — to 
let  him  feel  her  hand  upon  his  neck — that  he  might 
know  her  pity  and  her  pain.  It  almost  seemed  better 
that  death  should  come  to  them  both  now  than  that  he 
should  die  and  not  know  the  comforting  touch  of  her 
hand.  She  leaned  forward  and  one  hand  left  the 
wheel,  but  she  lost  her  touch  of  the  air  and  the  planes 
tipped  drunkenly,  threatening  the  destruction  she 
courted. 

The  madness  passed — and  with  its  passing  came  a 
calm,  ice-cold.  She  was  no  longer  a  sentient  being. 
She  was  merely  an  instinct  with  wings,  flying  as  the 
eagle  flies  straight  for  its  goal.  She  kept  her  glance 
on  the  compass  and  followed  the  river.  North-north- 
west. The  silver  thread  had  become  a  ribbon  now,  re- 
flecting the  starlight.  She  passed  over  other  towns. 
She  could  see  their  lights,  but  her  gaze  was  fixed  most 
often  on  the  distant  horizon,  where  after  a  while  she 
would  find  the  sea. 

A  yellowish  light,  painting  the  under  side  of  the 
plane  above  her  head,  bewildered  her.  She  could  not 
understand.  It  was  like  a  reflection  of  a  candle  inside 
a  tent.  Low  as  it  was,  it  blinded  her  eyes,  accustomed 
to  the  soft  light  of  the  stars.  There  was  a  crash 
nearby,  in  the  very  air  beside  her  it  seemed,  a  blind- 


FROM  THE  HEIGHTS 


ing  flash  of  light,  and  the  Yellow  Dove  toppled  side- 
ways. Instinctively  she  caught  it,  turning  as  she  went 
and  rose  higher — higher — as  a  bird  flies  at  the  sound 
of  a  shot  below.  She  knew  now  what  it  meant — a 
searchlight!  They  were  firing  at  her  with  the  high- 
angle  guns.  She  had  come  fast,  but  the  wire  from 
Windenberg  had  been  faster.  She  put  the  light  behind 
her  and  long  arms  of  light  still  groped  for  her,  but  she 
rose  still  higher,  five — six  thousand  feet  her  barograph 
told  her.  Below,  to  her  right,  a  small  thing,  shaped 
like  a  dragon-fly,  was  spitting  fire — to  her  left  an- 
other, but  she  sank  lower  in  her  seat  laughing  at  them. 
Something  of  Cyril's  joyous  bravado  possessed  her. 
She  defied  them,  rising  far  above  them — higher — seven 
thousand  feet — eight,  until  she  could  see  them  no 
more. 

North-northwest!  She  found  her  course  again  and 
flew  on  into  the  night.  She  had  lost  the  river,  but  that 
did  not  matter  now.  She  knew  that  after  a  time — an 
hour  or  more — she  must  come  to  the  sea.  And  when 
all  signs  of  danger  were  gone  she  went  down  again 
where  she  could  more  plainly  see  the  earth.  The  moon 
had  come  up  and  bathed  the  scene  below  with  its  soft 
light,  and  far  ahead  of  her  she  saw  irregular  streaks 
of  pale  gray  against  long  lines  of  purplish  black.  The 
sea?  She  had  lost  all  idea  of  time  and  distance.  How 
far  the  sea  was  from  Windenberg  she  did  not  know, 
and  if  she  had  known  it,  the  passage  of  time  was  a 
blank  to  her — a  continuous  roar,  the  music  of  the 
spheres  which  took  no  thought  of  time  or  space.  The 
flight  had  lasted  but  a  minute — and  an  eternity. 

To  her  left  the  gray  streaks  were  nearer — west 
by  north  her  compass  said,  and  she  steered  for  them. 
Soon  she  made  out  distinctly  contours  of  large  masses 

315 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


of  gray  against  the  black — water  and  land.  The  air 
was  milder  and  she  sniffed  the  salt.  She  went  down 
to  three  thousand  feet  to  get  her  bearings,  ever  watch- 
ful for  the  dragon-flies  and  ready  to  soar  again  at  the 
first  flash  of  a  searchlight.  She  had  already  learned 
to  avoid  the  planes  where  the  lights  were  grouped — 
the  colonies  of  glow-worms  that  here  meant  danger. 

Had  she  crossed  the  Belgian  line?  She  had  been  to 
Antwerp,  to  Brussels,  and  tried  to  remember  what 
they  had  looked  like  on  the  map.  There  was  water 
near  Antwerp — she  remembered  that,  inland  bodies  of 
water  which  led  to  the  sea.  Now  she  could  see  beyond 
the  bodies  of  inland  water  to  a  wide  expanse  of  gray 
beyond  the  dark — uninterrupted  gray — the  ocean! 
She  bore  to  her  left  until  her  course  was  due  west.  A 
searchlight  flashed  upon  her  for  a  second  and  was 
gone.  By  the  way  the  contours  were  changing  she 
knew  that  her  speed  was  terrific.  And  slowly  but  more 
and  more  certainly  as  she  neared  the  sea,  a  problem 
presented  itself — her  goal!  Where  was  it,  and  how  to 
find  it  in  the  dark?  Cyril  had  said  that  they  must 
land  back  of  Ypres.  But  where  was  Ypres?  Beyond 
Ostend  and  inland — thirty — forty  miles.  She  knew 
that  much  from  the  war  maps  that  she  had  pored  over 
with  her  father.  But  how  to  find  it? 

She  was  over  the  sea  now.  The  Yellow  Dove  felt  a 
new  breeze  and  the  wheel  tugged  under  her  hand,  but 
the  machine  lifted  at  the  touch  and  wheeled  like  a  gull 
to  speed  down  the  coast.  Ostend!  The  Kursaal!  If 
she  could  get  a  sight  of  it !  It  was  dangerous,  but  she 
must  go  lower — three — two  hundred  feet  from  the  sea, 
where  she  might  make  out  familiar  profiles  against  the 
sky. 

The  waves  rose  to  meet  her,  reflecting  the  starlight, 
316 


and  just  below  her  to  the  left  the  surf  rolled  in  lines 
of  white  upon  the  beach.  Dunes,  dunes  interminably, 
with  here  and  there  a  collection  of  huts.  A  dark  shape 
moved  in  the  water  ahead  of  her,  another War- 
ships? Destroyers.  She  wheeled  out  to  sea  and  flew 
above  them,  but  before  they  had  time  even  to  get  their 
searchlights  ranged  upon  her,  the  danger  was  past. 
She  would  win  now.  The  Yellow  Dove  was  invincible. 

A  dark  irregular  mass  ahead  of  her  rose  above  the 
monotony  of  dunes,  buildings,  and  a  bulk  she  seemed 
to  recognize — a  round  dome  iridescent  like  a  soap 
bubble  in  the  moonlight.  The  Kursaal !  Ostend !  She 
was  nearing  her  destination — the  end  of  the  German 
lines.  Friends  were  near — Belgians,  French,  and  Eng- 
lish. Twenty — thirty  miles  beyond  Ostend  and  then 
inland  somewhere  back  of  Ypres  she  would  find  the 
English.  The  English  lines  were  thirty  or  forty  miles 
long,  she  remembered.  It  should  not  be  difficult  to  find 
them.  She  must  be  sure  to  go  far  enough — but  not 
too  far — not  to  where  the  French  army  joined  the 
British  forces.  Cyril's  papers  must  go  to  the  English, 
to  General  French  himself.  He  had  said  so. 

She  had  no  way  of  judging  distance  except  by  the 
passage  of  the  minutes.  At  the  speed  she  was  flying 
she  must  turn  inland  in  fifteen  minutes.  She  had  no 
watch  and  she  tried  counting  the  seconds.  She  had 
counted  sixty — four  times — when  a  battery  hidden 
among  the  dunes  along  the  shore  opened  fire  on  her. 
She  was  half  a  mile  from  shore,  flying  low,  but  the  flash 
of  light  startled  her  and  the  shell  burst  beyond.  She 
rose  quickly,  moving  further  out  to  sea,  frightened,  but 
still  self-possessed.  It  would  not  do  to  fail  now  with 
the  goal  in  sight. 

The  compass  gave  her  course  southwest  by  west. 
23  317 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


She  counted  again,  guessing  at  the  time  she  had  lost, 
and  then,  making  a  wide  spiral  out  to  sea  and  rising  to 
three  thousand  feet,  she  drove  the  Yellow  Dove  inland. 
Searchlights  were  turned  on  her  and  shots  fired,  but 
she  went  higher,  trying  to  make  out  if  she  could  the 
lines  of  the  opposing  armies.  Red  and  yellow  lights 
were  displayed  below  to  her  left,  and  far  to  her  right 
were  tiny  clusters  of  lights,  but  there  seemed  to  be  no 
order  in  their  arrangement — no  lines  that  she  could 
distinguish  even  at  this  height.  Her  keen  eyes,  now 
inured  to  the  darkness,  made  out  a  monoplane  against 
the  starlight  ahead  of  her — but  she  swerved  to  the 
right,  the  greater  power  of  the  Yellow  Dove  enabling 
her  to  rise  and  elude  it.  She  flew  for  what  seemed  ten 
or  fifteen  minutes,  going  steadily  to  the  south  and  west, 
when  she  drove  for  a  spot  where  there  were  no  Lights 
and  then  shut  off  the  throttle  and  dove. 

She  knew  that  this  was  perhaps  the  greatest  mo- 
ment of  her  great  adventure.  A  landing  place  in  the 
dark  in  a  country  she  did  not  know,  where  a  church 
steeple,  a  telegraph  wire,  the  limb  of  a  tree,  would 
bring  her  and  her  precious  freight  to  disaster.  With 
the  sudden  shutting  off  of  the  power,  a  silence  that 
bewildered  her,  a  silence  broken  only  by  the  whirr  of 
the  wind  against  the  planes.  Her  ears  ached  from  the 
change  of  pressure  in  her  swift  descent.  She  eased 
her  wheel  back  gently,  trying  to  make  out  objects  be- 
low. Dark  patches — woods — to  be  avoided,  the  roof 
of  a  house — another — lights  here  and  there,  small,  ob- 
scure, which  she  had  not  seen.  She  avoided  them  all, 
planing  down  in  a  spiral  toward  what  seemed  to  be 
unobstructed  space. 

She  breathed  a  prayer  as  the  earth  came  up  to  meet 

her.  Death ?  Whatever  came — Cyril,  too.  .  .  . 

318 


FROM  THE  HEIGHTS 


She  stared  straight  before  her,  feeling  out  the  wind 
pressure  on  the  planes,  gliding  as  near  the  horizontal 
as  she  dared.  An  open  field!  Thank  God!  A  gentle 
shock  and  the  springs  responded.  The  Yellow  Dove 
rebounded  slightly  and  ran  along  the  ground  smoothly 
upon  its  wheels — then  stopped.  She  tried  to  get  up, 
but  could  not.  Her  hands  seemed  fastened  to  the 
wheel.  She  heard  the  sound  of  men's  voices  shouting 
and  saw  lights,  but  she  could  not  seem  to  make  a  sound. 
She  was  shivering  violently,  also  laughing  a  little,  but 
she  had  no  sense  of  being  cold.  She  seemed  very  weak 
somehow,  and  very  helpless.  And  then,  just  as  the 
lights  grew  brighter — they  went  out. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 
HEADQUARTERS 

A  WOMAN !"  she  heard  a  man's  voice  say  at  her 
ear.  She  was  lying  upon  the  ground,  and 
strange  faces  were  bending  over  her.  "Well, 
I'm  damned!" 

English ! 

"And  the  other?"  she  heard  again.  "Dead  as  a 
'errin'!" 

Doris  sat  up,  staring  at  them  wildly. 

"Wait !  There's  a  flutter  'ere  yet."  She  heard  the 
other  man  say.  "Come,  Bill.  Let's  have  'im  over  to 
the  'ouse." 

Doris  managed  to  find  a  whisper.  "A  surgeon — for 
him,"  she  said  to  the  man  supporting  her.  "He  will 
not  die.  He  is  only  wounded." 

It  was  her  obsession.     It  would  not  leave  her. 

She  saw  them  carrying  Cyril  toward  the  house,  and 
when  they  wanted  to  take  her,  too,  she  said  that  she 
would  walk.  Though  deathly  weak,  she  managed  to 
reach  the  house  where  they  had  carried  Cyril.  They 
gave  her  a  drink  of  something  and  she  revived. 

It  was  a  Red  Cross  station,  they  told  her,  and  the 
doctor  would  be  here  in  a  moment.  But  in  the  mean- 
while first  aid  was  administered,  and  at  her  place  at  his 
bedside  she  saw  Cyril  struggling  faintly  back  to  life. 

"He  will  not  die,"  she  repeated  quietly  when  the  sur- 
geon had  examined  him  gravely. 

"I  hope  not — but  he's  bled  a  good  deal.  We'll  sec." 
320 


HEADQUARTERS 


They  cut  away  his  coat  and  wanted  to  send  her 
away,  but  she  pleaded  to  remain  and  in  a  moment  she 
heard  Cyril's  voice  whispering  hoarsely — "Papers — 
coat  pocket — Sir  John  French." 

"All  right,"  said  the  surgeon  cheerfully.  "We'll  see 
to  that." 

"Doris." 

"Here,  Cyril." 

"Rippin'  fine — of  you — no  mistake — old   girl " 

His  whisper  trailed  off  into  silence  and  at  the  sur- 
geon's orders  they  led  her  away  from  his  cot,  but  she 
would  not  leave  the  room  until  she  got  the  papers  out 
of  the  pocket  of  his  jacket.  An  orderly  led  her  to  a 
young  officer  with  his  arm  in  a  sling  who  sat  at  a  table 
in  another  part  of  the  building.  He  listened  to  her 
story  attentively  and  read  the  documents  carefully,  his 
lips  as  he  read  emitting  a  thin  whistle.  He  glanced 
at  his  watch  and  for  a  moment  left  the  room. 

"It  is  arranged.  You  shall  go,"  he  said  when  he 
came  back.  "A  machine  will  be  here  in  a  moment." 
He  paused,  examining  her  doubtfully.  She  was  spat- 
tered with  grease  and  oil,  but  the  pallor  of  her  face  be- 
neath its  grime  showed  that  her  strength  was  near  its 
end.  "Wouldn't  you  trust  those  dispatches  to  me? 
It's  ten  miles  to  headquarters  and  rough." 

"No — no,  I  will  go.     I  promised." 

But  he  ordered  some  hot  coffee  and  bread,  and  thus 
fortified,  when  the  motor  came  around  she  was  driven 
upon  her  way.  The  young  officer  sat  beside  her,  eagerly 
listening,  while  she  gave  him  a  brief  outline  of  their 
adventures. 

"Amazin'I"  he  said  from  time  to  time.  "Most 
amazin' !" 

And  then  as  she  went  on,  he  said  quietly: 
321 


"You're  goin'  on  your  nerve,  I  think.  Better  save 
your  strength  until  we  get  to  headquarters.  It  isn't 
far  now." 

She  tried  to  keep  silent,  but  it  seemed  as  though  she 
must  go  on  talking.  That  seemed  to  give  her  strength 
to  complete  her  task,  for  when  she  sank  back  in  her 
seat  and  tried  to  relax  she  only  grew  weak  thinking  of 
Cyril  lying  back  there,  hovering  between  life  and  death. 
And  then  she  heard  herself  saying  aloud,  "He  will  not 
die.  He  has  gone  through  too  much  to  die  now." 

The  man  beside  her  glanced  down  at  her  and  smiled 
gently. 

"No,  he  isn't  going  to  die.  Bullets  don't  kill  nowa- 
days— unless  they  kill  at  once." 

"Yes— yes,"  she  assented.  "That's  it.  If  he  had 
been  going  to  die,  he  would  have  been  dead  now, 
wouldn't  he?" 

She  laid  her  hand  eagerly  on  the  young  officer's  arm 
and  he  put  his  hand  over  hers. 

"Palmerston  is  the  best  surgeon  along  this  part  of 
the  line.  He'll  pull  him  through.  Don't  you  worry." 

"I  won't — I'll  try  not  to — you're  awfully  kind. 
Would  you  mind  telling  me  your  name?" 

"Jackson.    Second  Leinster  Dragoons.    And  yours?" 

"Mather — Doris  Mather.  I — I  don't  want  to  forget 
your  name.  You've  been  very  good  to  understand 
everything  so  perfectly." 

"Oh,  it's  nothing.  There  are  reasons — I'm  on  Head- 
quarters Staff,  you  know." 

That  was  one  reason.  But  another  one  was  that 
there  was  a  girl  at  home  just  as  much  worried  over 
his  wound  as  Miss  Mather  was  over  Hammersley's. 

They  passed  from  the  rough  roads  between  gates 
into  a  smoother  one  which  was  bordered  with  poplars. 

322 


HEADQUARTERS 


At  the  end  in  front  of  her  she  saw  lights  and  reached  a 
doorway,  where  an  orderly  opened  the  door  of  the  ma- 
chine and  saluted  her  companion.  Their  arrival,  it 
seemed,  was  expected.  Captain  Jackson  took  her  by 
the  arm  and  led  her  indoors,  for  her  courage  or  her 
nerves  seemed  to  be  failing  her  again,  down  a  quiet 
hall  into  a  room  where  an  officer  with  a  gray  mustache 
sat  before  a  lighted  lamp  at  a  table  covered  with  pa- 
pers. She  recognized  him  at  once  from  the  many  por- 
traits that  had  appeared  in  the  weekly  papers.  He 
spoke  to  her  and  she  tried  to  reply,  but  she  could  not. 
She  seemed  only  to  have  strength  enough  to  thrust  the 
papers  forward  into  his  hand,  when  her  knees  gave  way 
under  her  and  she  sank  in  a  heap  upon  the  floor. 

Gentle  hands  lifted  her  and  laid  her  upon  a  couch  in 
the  corner  of  the  room.  She  tried  to  get  up,  but  could 
not.  She  heard  the  voices  of  the  officers  in  the  room 
as  from  a  great  distance,  and  then  a  woman  came  and 
two  men  carried  her  upstairs  and  put  her  to  bed.  She 
realized  that  she  was  talking  incoherently  of  Cyril,  of 
the  Yellow  Dove.  They  gave  her  something  to  drink 
and  her  nerves  grew  mysteriously  quiet.  She  seemed 
to  be  sailing  smoothly  through  the  air — higher,  higher 
• — Cyril's  fingers  were  pointing  upward.  She  was  tip- 
ping the  wheel  toward  her — ever  toward  her,  and  they 
rose  higher.  They  had  reached  the  region  of  contin- 
uous and  perfect  day.  Cyril  turned  his  head  and 
looked  at  her,  and  then  he  smiled. 

•  •  •  •  • 

It  was  broad  daylight  when  she  awoke,  for  the  sun- 
shine was  streaming  in  at  the  window.  A  woman  sat 
near  her,  knitting.  She  was  an  old  woman  of  many 
wrinkles,  kindly  wrinkles  which  seemed  to  vie  with  one 
another  to  express  placidity.  As  Doris  rose  in  her 

323 


THE  YELLOW  DOFE 


bed  the  old  woman  rose,  too,  and  came  forward  briskly, 
speaking  in  French. 

"Ah,  Mademoiselle  is  awake.  Bon.  She  is  feeling 
better?" 

"Yes,  better — but  a  little  tired."  And  then,  as  she 
realized  where  she  was,  "Could  you  tell  me ?  Gen- 
eral French — could  I  see  him?" 

"All  is  well,  mademoiselle.  Monsieur  le  General — he 
is  not  here  now.  But  he  will  be  back  after  a  while.  He 
will  see  you,  then,  but  first  it  is  proper  that  you  have 
breakfast  and  a  bath.  Mademoiselle  needs  a  bath — I 
think." 

Doris  glanced  at  her  hand,  which  lay  upon  the  white 
coverlid.  It  was  black.  "Yes,  I  will  bathe.  But  first 
will  you  tell  me ?" 

The  old  woman  smiled  as  she  interrupted,  "I  was  to 
tell  you  that  Monsieur  yonder  is  better.  That  is  what 
Mademoiselle  wished  to  know,  is  it  not?" 

Doris  sank  back  upon  her  pillow  in  a  silence  which 
gave  the  full  measure  of  her  joy.  Cyril  would  recover. 
She  had  been  sure  of  it.  She  had  told  them  last  night. 
God  was  good. 

The  news  gave  her  strength,  and  the  coffee  and  eggs 
that  were  brought  revived  her  rapidly.  Her  nerves 
still  trembled  in  memory  of  what  they  had  passed 
through,  but  when  she  was  bathed  and  dressed  in  clean 
linen  garments,  much  too  large  for  her,  a  surgeon 
brought  her  medicine,  and  what  was  better  than  medicine, 
news  that  Cyril  was  conscious  and  was  asking  for  her. 

But  they  would  not  let  her  go  to  him.  Tomorrow 
perhaps.  Meanwhile  the  doctor  would  be  glad  to  take 
a  message.  Doris  colored  gently.  The  message  that 
she  would  have  liked  to  send  was  not  to  be  transmitted 
by  this  means. 

324 


HEADQUARTERS 


"Tell  him,"  she  said  at  last  quietly,  "that  I  am  well 
— and  that  I  will  see  him  when  I  have  permission  to 
do  so." 

The  officer  smiled,  gave  some  directions  to  the  old 
woman  and  went  out. 

It  was  not  until  late  in  the  afternoon,  when  dressed 
in  her  own  garments,  which  had  been  carefully  cleansed 
and  brushed  by  her  nurse,  that  she  was  admit- 
ted to  the  office  of  the  Field  Marshal.  She  was  shown 
into  his  room  and  he  greeted  her  with  unmistakable 
cordiality,  offering  her  the  chair  next  his  own  and  con- 
gratulating her  warmly  upon  the  success  of  her  achieve- 
ment and  Cyril's. 

"You  know,"  he  asked  quietly,  "the  contents  of  these 
documents  ?" 

"Yes.  Their  importance  made  it  necessary  that  I 
should." 

"Then  of  course  you  realize  the  necessity  for  the 
utmost  secrecy?" 

"I  do." 

The  General  smiled  at  her  and  brought  forward  a 
copy  of  a  recent  issue  of  the  London  Times. 

"Did  you  know  that  for  the  past  three  days  England 
has  actually  stopped  criticizing  me  to  talk  about  you?" 

"About  me?"  she  asked. 

"Yes,  read,"  he  said  smiling,  and  she  took  the  paper 
from  him,  skimming  the  headings  of  a  news  item  he 
pointed  out  to  her: 

MISS  MATHER   STILL   MISSING. 

MYSTERIOUS    DISAPPEARANCE    STILL    UNACCOUNTED 

FOR. 

LADY   HEATHCOTE    TELLS   STRANGE    STORY. 

JOHN  RIZZIO,    THE   FAMOUS   COLLECTOR,   A   GERMAN 

SPY. 

325 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


And  then  in  the  news  item  below : 

Allison  Mather,  of  Ashwater  Park,  believing  that  his 
daughter  is  still  alive,  today  offered  a  reward  of  five 
thousand  pounds  to  anyone 

She  stopped  reading  and  put  the  paper  down. 

"Poor  Daddy !"  she  whispered.  "O  Sir  John,  will  you 
let  him  know ?" 

"I  have  already  done  so,  child.  He  knows  that  you 
are  safe."  And  then  with  a  laugh,  "The  five  thousand 
pounds — I  think  are  mine.  I  need  a  new  hospital 
corps." 

"Oh,  he'll  give  it,  I'm  sure." 

"You  promise?" 

"Yes." 

He  took  her  hand  and  rose  in  the  act  of  dismissal. 
"We  have  supper  at  six.  I  hope  you  will  be  able  to 
join  us." 

"But,  General '      She  paused  at  the  door. 

He  smiled  at  her  softly. 

"If  all  goes  well — you  shall  see  him  tomorrow." 

She  colored  prettily.  Everyone  seemed  to  know,  but 
she  didn't  care.  The  world,  in  spite  of  its  terrors,  was 
a  garden  of  roses  to  Doris. 

•  •  •  •  • 

She  did  not  see  Cyril  the  next  day  or  the  one  follow- 
ing. His  temperature  had  risen,  and  while  the  danger 
of  a  relapse  was  not  acute,  they  thought  it  safer  that 
she  be  kept  away.  She  had  worried,  fearing  the  worst, 
but  the  frankness  of  the  head  surgeon  reassured  her. 
The  bullet  had  drilled  through  him,  just  scraping  the 
lung.  He  would  recover.  But  why  take  a  chance  of 
complication  when  all  was  going  well?  There  was  no 

326 


HEADQUARTERS 


reply  to  that,  so  Doris  waited  at  headquarters,  thank- 
ful and  trying  to  be  patient,  sending  two  penciled 
scrawls  which  were  delivered  to  the  wounded  man. 

It  was  not  until  three  days  later  that  she  received 
word  that  she  would  be  permitted  to  see  him.  His  cot 
had  been  carried  into  a  small  room  at  the  front  of  the 
building,  and  she  entered  it  timidly,  the  nurse,  with  a 
smile  and  a  glance  at  her  watch,  both  of  which  were  elo- 
quent, withdrawing.  He  was  propped  up  on  pillows, 
and  though  pale  from  the  loss  of  blood,  greeted  her 
with  his  old  careless  smile.  She  sank  into  the  chair 
by  the  side  of  the  bed  and  caught  his  hand  to  her 
lips. 

"O  Cyril,"  she  murmured.  "Cyril,  I'm  so  glad.  But 
I  knew  you  wouldn't  die — you  couldn't  after  getting 
safely  through  everything  else." 

"Die !  Well,  hardly.  I'm  right  as  rain.  Jolly  close 
shootin'  that  of  Rizzio's,  though.  Pity  he  had  to  go — 
that  way." 

She  hid  her  face  in  her  hands. 

"Don't!  Let's  forget  him."  And  then,  "Have  you 
suffered  much?" 

"No.  The  bally  thing  burns  a  bit  now  and  then — 
but  the  worst  of  it  is,  they  won't  let  a  chap  smoke." 

She  laughed  and  he  caught  her  hand  closer. 

"How  did  you  do  it,  Doris?  How  did  you?"  he 
questioned. 

"I  had  to,  Cyril,"  she  said.  "It  wasn't  anything — 
except  knowing  where  to  come  down.  That  bothered 
me.  I  guessed  at  Ypres.  The  rest  was  luck." 

"More  than  luck,  old  girl.  Just  courage  and  intelli- 
gence. I  felt  myself  failin',  up  there,  but  I  saw  you 
knew  your  way  about  and  then  I — I  seemed  to  go  to 
sleep.  Silly  of  me,  wasn't  it?" 

S37 


THE  YELLOW  DOVE 


"Silly!     You  fainted,  Cyril." 

"Rotten  time  to  faint." 

"You  might  have  died  up  there.  Once  I  thought  you 
had  died.  Oh,  that  dreadful  moment !  I  wanted  to  go, 
too — with  you.  I  was  a  little  mad,  I  think.  I  wanted 
to  take  you  in  my  arms  and  go  with  you — down — down. 
My  hands  even  left  the  wheel.  The  Yellow  Dove  top- 
pled— but  I  caught  her." 

"Poor  child !" 

"After  that  I  seemed  to  grow  all  cold  with  reason 
and  skill.  I  forgot  you.  I  looked  beyond,  over 
your  poor  head.  I  had  to  succeed,  Cyril — that  was 
all." 

His  hand  pressed  hers  tenderly. 

"You're  the  only  girl  in  the  world  who  could  do  it. 

I'm  glad — proud "  He  broke  off.  "My  word, 

Doris !  There's  no  use  tryin'  to  tell  you  what  I  think 
of  you.  I'm  no  good  at  that  sort  of  thing." 

"I  understand.  You're  just — yourself.  That's 
enough  for  me." 

"You  were  a  trump  up  there  in  the  Thorwald — to 
stay  with  poor  old  Udo,  but  I  had  to  go.  It  was  the 
only  way.  I  never  thought  we'd  make  it." 

"But  we  did." 

"You  did.  It  was  the  Dove,  Doris — the  good  old 
Dove.  Isn't  she  a  ripper?" 

"I  never  had  a  fear — once  she  rose.  How  did  you 
happen " 

He  laughed. 

"It  was  to  be  a  surprise.  I'd  been  workin'  on  her 
for  a  year — tryin'  her  out  on  the  moors.  Nobody 
knew — until  the  war  came — and  then  I  told  Udo,  who 
told  von  Stromberg.  I  tried  a  flight  to  Windenberg  and 
made  it  comfortably.  Awf'ly  easy  thing.  I  stayed  at 

328 


HEADQUARTERS 


Windenberg  in  October,  flyin'  over  the  English  lin««, 
droppin'  bombs." 

"That  was  where  you  were !" 

"But  I  never  hit  anythin'.  Wouldn't  do,  you  know. 
Then  when  I  came  back  I  told  the  War  Office.  They 
sent  me  for  the  papers.  You  know  the  rest." 

"O  Cyril,  I'm  so  glad  it's  all  over.  You'll  go  to 
England  now  and  rest." 

"For  a  while."  And  then,  "Will  you  marry  me, 
Doris?  Soon?" 

"Yes,"  she  said  softly.     "Whenever  you  want  me." 

"Here?     Now?" 

"But,  Cyril " 

"There's  a  parson  chap  about  here  somewhere.  I 
saw  him  browsin'  in  here  the  other  day." 

"Isn't  it  a  little " 

"Say  you  will,  there's  a  dear." 

"Yes,  if  you  wish  it.    But " 

"What?" 

"Clothes." 

"Nonsense.  You're  jolly  handsome  in  those  togs — 
handsome  no  end,"  he  repeated.  "Marry  me  tomor- 
row, Doris.  There's  a  dear." 

She  leaned  her  face  down  upon  his  hand. 

"We're  already  married,  Cyril.  Up  there  I  felt  it. 
Even  death  couldn't  have  separated  us." 

"Thank  God!     Kiss  me,  Doris."     She  obeyed. 

"I'll  see  Jackson,"  he  whispered.  "He'll  manage  it. 
Resourceful  chap,  Jackson.  He'll  get  us  a  chaplain 
like  pullin'  a  rabbit  out  of  a  hat." 

She  laughed. 

"I  don't  suppose  I'd  ever  have  known  you,  Cyril, 
over  there  in  England.  You  always  did  wonderful 
things  carelessly,  Cyril." 

329 


"But  not  this  wonderful  thing- "  and  he  kissed 

her. 

"It  is  a  wonderful  thing,"  she  whispered.  "So  won- 
derful that  I  wonder  if  it  can  be  true." 

"I'll  prove  it  to  you " 

But  she  had  straightened  and  kissed  his  hand. 

"No  more  now — I  mustn't  stay.  I  hear  them  in  the 
hall." 

"Tomorrow?"  he  asked. 

"Yes." 

"Jackson?" 

"Yes." 

The  nurse  knocked  discreetly  and  entered.  "Five 
minutes.  I'm  sorry." 

"So  am  I,"  said  Hammerslej^  with  a  sigh. 

Three  weeks  later  they  stood  side  by  side  at  the  rail 
of  the  Channel  boat  on  the  way  to  Ashwater  Park  for 
the  parental  blessing.  The  shores  of  France  were  al- 
ready purple  in  the  distance.  They  had  looked  upon 
Death  with  eyes  that  did  not  fear,  but  the  sight  of  it 
together  had  made  the  bond  of  their  fealty  and  tender- 
ness the  stronger.  There  was  a  sadness  in  his  look  and 
she  knew  instinctively  of  what  he  was  thinking. 

"Germany,  Cyril,"  she  said  aloud.  "I  love  it  because 
a  part  of  it  is  you.  But  I  love  England  more,  because 
it  is  you." 

Hammersley  watched  the  receding  shores  beyond  the 
vessel's  wake,  her  hand  in  his. 

"They're  followin'  false  gods,  Doris.  Gods  of  steel 
and  brass !" 

"They  must  fall,  Cyril." 

"They  will."  And  then,  "But  you  can't  help  ad- 
mirin'  the  beggars !  Poor  old  Udo !" 

330 


HEADQUARTERS 


"I  think  about  him,  Cyril.  D»  you  think  ke  got 
away  ?" 

"Well,  rather!  I  cut  his  bonds  with  a  huntin'  knife 
before  we  went  down." 

She  looked  up  into  his  face  in  amazement.  "You 
dared  do  that?"  He  laughed. 

"You  wouldn't  have  let  him  be  more  generous  than 
me." 

"And  he  let  us  go?" 

"He  didn't  think  we  could  go.  He  left  things  to  Des- 
tiny." 

"Good  old  Udo !"  she  repeated.  And  then  dreamily, 
"Destiny !  You  were  not  meant  to  die,  Cyril." 

"Not  yet."  He  said  slowly :  "But  I  must  go  back — 
over  there,  Doris." 

She  shivered  a  little  and  drew  closer  to  him. 

"Yes,  I  know,"  she  said.     "But  you've  earned " 

"I  couldn't  ever  earn  what  I've  got,"  he  broke  in 
quickly. 

"Nor  I " 

"I'm  not  much  of  a  chap  at  pretty  speeches  and  all 
that  sort  of  thing,  but  you're  a  rare  one,  you  know, 
the  rummiest  sort  of  a  rare  one — the  kind  a  chap 
dreams  about  but  never  gets — and  yet  I've  got  you — 
Oh,  hang  it  all,  Doris,"  he  broke  off  helplessly.  "You 
know " 

She  smiled  at  him  and  slipped  her  arm  through  his. 

"Yes,  I  know,"  she  said. 

"Good  old  Doris,"  he  muttered.  "Silly  ass,  aren't 
I?" 

But  she  wouldn't  admit  that. 

(16) 


FOUR  TIMELY  BOOKS  OF 
INTERNATIONAL  IMPORTANCE 

I  ACCUSE   (J' ACCUSE  f)   By  a   German.     A   Scathing 
Arraignment  of  the  German  War  Policy. 

At  this  vital  time  in  the  nation's  history  every  patriotic  American 
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G.  Usher. 

A  glance  into  America's  future  by  the  man  who,  in  his  book'PAN- 
GERMANISM,  foretold  with  such  amazing  accuracy  the  coming  of 
the  present  European  events.  An  exceedingly  live  and  timely  book 
that  is  bound  to  be  read  and  discussed  widely  because  it  strikes  to 
the  heart  of  American  problems,  and  more  especially  because  it  hits 
right  and  left  at  ideas  that  have  become  deep-seated  convictions  in 
many  American  minds. 

THE  EVIDENCE  IN  THE  CASE.      By  James  M. 
Beck,  LL.  D.,  Formerly  Assistant  Attorney-General 
of  the  United  States,  Author  of  the  "War  and  Hu- 
manity."   With  an  Introduction  by  the  Hon.  Joseph 
H.  Choate-,Late  U.  S.  Ambassador  to  Great  Britain. 
No  work  on  the  War  has  made  a  deeper  impression  throughout 
the  world  than  "The  Evidence  in  the  Case,"  a  calm,  dispassionate, 
but  forceful   discussion  of  the  moral  responsibility  for  the  present 
war  as  disclosed  by  the  diplomatic  papers.  Arnold  Bennett  says  that 
it  "is  certainly  by  far  the  most  convincing  indictment  of  Germany  in 
existence." 


GROSSET  &  DUNLAP,  PUBLISHERS,  NEW  YORK 


JACK    LONDON'S    NOVELS 

May  be  had  wherever  books  are  sold.     Ask  for  Grosset  &  Dunlap's  list. 

JOHN  BARLEYCORN.    Illustrated  by  H.  T.  Dunn. 

This  remarkable  book  is  a  record  of  the  author's  own  amazing 
experiences.  This  big,  brawny  world  rover,  who  has  been  acv 
quainted  with  alcohol  from  boyhood,  comes  out  boldly  against  John 
Barleycorn.  It  is  a  string  of  exciting  adventures,  yet  it  forcefully 
conveys  an  unforgetable  idea  and  makes  a  typical  Jack  London  book. 

THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  MOON.    Frontispiece  by  George  Harper. 

The  story  opens  in  the  city  slums  where  Billy  Roberts,  teamster 
and  ex-prize  fighter,  and  Saxon  Brown,  laundry  worker,  meet  and 
love  and  marry.  They  tramp  from  one  end  of  California  to  the 
other,  and  in  the  Valley  of  the  Moon  find  the  farm  paradise  that  is 
to  be  their  salvation. 

BURNING  DAYLIGHT.    Four  illustrations. 

The  story  ot  an  adventurer  who  went  to  Alaska  and  laid  the 
foundations  of  his  fortune  before  the  gold  hunters  arrived.  Bringing 
his  fortunes  to  the  States  he  is  cheated  out  of  it  by  a  crowd  of  money 
kings,  and  recovers  it  only  at  the  muzzle  of  his  gun.  He  then  starts 
out  as  a  merciless  exploiter  on  his  own  account.  Finally  he  takes  to 
drinking  and  becomes  a  picture  of  degeneration.  About  this  time 
he  falls  in  love  with  his  stenographer  and  wins  her  heart  but  not 
her  hand  and  then — but  read  the  story! 
A  SON  OF  THE  SUN.  Illustrated  by  A.  O .  Fischer  and  C .  W.  Ashley. 

David  Grief  was  once  a  light-haired,  blue-eyed  youth  who  came 
from  England  to  the  South  Seas  in  search  of  adventure.  Tanned 
like  a  native  and  as  lithe  as  a  tiger,  he  became  a  real  son  of  the  sun. 
The  life  appealed  to  him  and  he  remained  and  became  very  wealthy. 
THE  CALL  OF  THE  WILD.  Illustrations  by  Philip  R.  Goodwin  and 
Charles  Livingston  Bull.  Decorations  by  Charles  E.  Hooper. 

A  book  ot  dog  adventures  as  exciting  as  any  man's  exploits 
could  be.  Here  is  excitement  to  stir  the  blood  and  here  is  pictur- 
esque color  to  transport  the  reader  to  primitive  scenes,  j 

THE  SEA  WOLF.    Illustrated  by  W.  J.  Aylward. 

Told  by  a  man  whom  Fate  suddenly  swings  from  his  fastidious 
life  into  the  power  of  the  brutal  captain  of  a  sealing  schooner.    A 
novel  of  adventure  warmed  by  a  beautiful  love  episode  that  every 
reader  will  hail  with  delight. 
WHITE  FANG.    Illustrated  by  Charles  Livingston  Bull. 

"White  Fang"  is  part  dog,  part  wolf  and  all  brute,  living  in  the 
frozen  north ;  he  gradually  comes  under  the  spell  of  man's  com- 
panionship, and  surrenders  all  at  the  last  in  a  fight  with  a  bull  dog. 
Thereafter  he  is  man's  loving  slave. 

GROSSET   &    DUNLAP,  PUBLISHERS',    NEW   YORK 


NOVELS  OF  FRONTIER  LIFE  BY 

WILLIAM  MacLEOD   RAINE 

HANDSOMELY  BOUND  IN  CLOTH.     ILLUSTRATED. 
May  be  had  wherever  books  are  sold.     Ask  for  Grosset  and  Dunlap's  list 

MAVERICKS. 

A  tale  of  the  western  frontier,  where  the  "rustler,"  whose  dep- 
redations are  so  keenly  resented  by  the  early  settlers  of  the  range, 
abounds.  One  of  the  sweetest  love  stories  ever  told.y 

A  TEXAS  RANGER. 

How  a  member  of  the  most  dauntless  border  police  force  carried 
law  into  the  mesquit,  saved  the  life  of  an  innocent  man  after  a  series 
of  thrilling  adventures,  followed  a  fugitive  to  Wyoming,  and  then 
passed  through  deadly  peril  to  ultimate  happiness. 

WYOMING. 

In  this  vivid  story  of  the  outdoor  West  the  author  has  captured 
the  breezy  charm  of  "cattleland,"  and  brings  out  the  turbid  life  of 
the  frontier  with  all  its  engaging  dash  and  vigor. 

RIDGWAY  OF  MONTANA. 

The  scene  is  laid  in  the  mining  centers  of  Montana,  where  poli- 
tics and  mining  industries  are  the  religion  of  the  country.  The 
political  contest,  the  love  scene,  and  the  fine  character  drawing  give 
this  story  great  strength  and  charm,  t 

BUCKY  O'CONNOR, 

Every  chapter  teems  with  'wholesome,  stirring  adventures,  re- 
plete with  the  dashing  spirit  of  the  border,  told  with  dramatic  da? ^ 
and  absorbing  fascination  of  style  and  plot. 

CROOKED  TRAILS  AND  STRAIGHT. 

A  story  of  Arizona;  of  swift-riding  men  and  daring  outlaws;  of 
a  bitter  feud  between  cattle-men  and  sheep-herders.  The  heroine 
s  a  most  unusual  woman  and  her  love  story  reaches  a  culmination 
chat  is  fittingly  characteristic  of  the  great  free  West. 

BRAND  BLOTTERS. 

A  story  of  the  Cattle  Range.  This  story  brings  out  the  turbid 
life  of  the  frontier,  with  all  its  engaging  dash  and  vigor,  with  a  charm- 
ing love  interest  running  through  its  320  pages. 

GROSSET  &  DUNLAP,     PUBLISHERS,      NEW  YORK 


ZANE  GREY'S  NOVELS 

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THE  LIGHT  OF  WESTERN  STARS 

Colored  frontispiece  by  W.  Herbert  Dtmton. 

Most  of  the  action  of  this  story  takes  place  near  the  turbulent 
Mexican  border  of  the  present  day.  A  New  York  society  girl  buys 
a  ranch  which  becomes  the  center  of  frontier  warfare.  Her  loyal 
cowboys  defend  her  property  from  bandits,  and  her  superintendent 
rescues  her  when  she  is  captured  by  them.  A  surprising  climax 
brings  the  story  to  a  delightful  close. 

DESERT  GOLD 

Illustrated  by  Douglas  Duer. 

Another  fascinating  story  of  the  Mexican  border.  Two  men. 
lost  in  the  desert,  discover  gold  when,  overcome  by  weakness,  they 
can  go  no  farther.  The  rest  of  the  story  describes  the  recent  uprising 
along  the  border,  and  ends  with  the  finding  of  the  gold  which  the 
two  prospectors  had  willed  to  the  girl  who  is  the  story's  heroine. 

RIDERS  OF  THE  PURPLE  SAGE 

Illustrated  by  Douglas  Duer. 

A  picturesque  romance  of  Utah  of  some  forty  years  ago  when 
Mormon  authority  ruled.   In  the  persecution  of  Jane  Withersteen,  a 
rich  ranch  owner,  we  are  permitted  to  see  the  methods  employed  by 
the  invisible  hand  of  the  Mormon  Church  to  break  her  will. 
THE  LAST  OF  THE  PLAINSMEN 
Illustrated  with  photograph  reproductions. 

This  is  the  record  of  a  trip  which  the  author  took  with  Buffalo 
Jones,  known  as  the  preserver  of  the  American  bison,  across  the 
Arizona  desert  and  of  a  hunt  in  '  'that  wonderful  country  of  yellow 
crags,  deep  canons  and  giant  pines."  It  is  a  fascinating  story. 

THE  HERITAGE  OF  THE  DESERT 

Jacket  in  color.     Frontispiece. 

This  big  human  drama  is  played  in  the  Painted  Desert.  A 
lovely  girl,  who  has  been  reared  among  Mormons,  learns  to  love  i 
young  New  Englander.  The  Mormon  religion,  however,  demands 
that  the  girl  shall  become  the  second  wife  of  one  of  the  Mormons — 

Well,  that's  the  problem  of  this  sensational,  big  selling  story. 

BETTY  ZANE 

Illustrated  by  Louis  F.  Grant. 

This  story  tells  of  the  bravery  and  heroism  of  Betty,  the  beauti- 
ful young  sister  of  old  Colonel  Zane,  one  of  the  bravest  pioneers. 
Life  along  the  frontier,  attacks  by  Indians,  Betty's  heroic  defense 
of  the  beleaguered  garrison  at  Wheeling,  the  burning  of  the  Fort, 
and  Betty's  final  race  for  life,  make  up  this  never-to-be-forgotten  story. 

GROSSET  &  DUNLAP,    PUBLISHERS,  NEW  YORK 


STORIES  OF  RARE  CHARM  BY 

GENE  STRATTON-PQRTER 

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THE  HARVESTER. 


LADDIE. 

Illustrated  by  Herman  Pfeifer. 

This  is  a  bright,  cheery  tale  with  the 
scenes  laid  in  Indiana.  The  story  is  told 
by  Little  Sister,  the  youngest  member  of 
a  large  family,  but  it  is  concerned  not  so 
much  with  childish  doings  as  with  the  love 
affairs  of  older  members  of  the  family. 
Chief  among  them  is  that  of  Laddie,  the 
older  brother  whom  Little  Sister  adores, 
and  the  Princess,  an  English  girl  who  has 
come  to  live  in  the  neighborhood  and  about 
whose  family  there  hangs  a  mystery. 
There  is  a  wedding  midway  in  the  book 
and  a  double  wedding  at  the  close. 
Illustrated  by  W.  L.  Jacobs. 


"The  Harvester,"  David  Langston,  is  a  man  of.  the  woods  and 
fields,  who  draws  his  living  from  the  prodigal  hand  of  Mother 
Nature  herself.  If  the  book  had  nothing  in  it  but  the  splendid  figure 
of  this  man  it  would  be  notable.  But  when  the  Gin  comes  to  his 
"Medicine  Woods,"  and  the  Harvester's  whole  being  realizes  that 
this  is  the  highest  point  of  life  which  has  come  to  him-  -there  begins 
a  romance  of  the  rarest  idyllic  quality. 
FRECKLES,  Decorations  by  E.  Stetson  Crawford. 

Freckles  is  a  nameless  waif  when  the  tale  opens,  but  the  way  in 
which  he  takes  hold  of  life;  the  nature  friendships  he  forms  in  the 
great  Limberlost  Swamp;  the  manner  in  which  everyone  who  meets 
him  succumbs  to  the  charm  of  his  engaging  personality;  and  his 
love-story  with  "The  Angel"  are  full  of  real  sentiment. 
A  GIRL  OF  THE  LIMBERLOST. 
Illustrated  by  Wladyslaw  T.  Brenda. 

The  story  of  a  girl  of  the  Michigan  woods;  a  buoyant,  lovable 
type  of  the  self-reliant  American.  Her  philosophy  is  one  of  love  and 
kindness  towards  all  things;  her  hope  is  never  dimmed.  And  by  tlie 
sheer  beauty  of  her  soul,  and  the  purity  of  her  vision,  she  wins  from 
barren  and  unpromising  surroundings  those  rewards  of  high  courage 
AT  THE  FOOT  OF  THE  RAINBOW. 
Illustrations  in  colors  by  Oliver  Kemp. 

The  scene  of  this  charming  love  story  is  laid  in  Central  Indiana. 
The  story  is  one  of  devoted  friendship,  and  tender  self-sacrificing 
love.  The  novel  is  brimful  of  the  most  beautiful  word  painting  ol 
nature,  and  its  pathos  and  tender  sentiment  will  endear  it  to  all. 

GROSSET  &  DUNLAP,      PUBLISHERS,      NE'W  YORK 


JOHN  FOX,  JR'S. 

STORIES   OF  THE  KENTUCKY  MOUNTAINS 

May  be  had  wherever  books  are  sold.      Ask  for  Qrosset  and  Dunlap's  list.        < 

THE  TRAIL   OF  THE    LONESOME   PINE. 
Illustrated  by  F.  C.  Yohn. 

The  "lonesome  pine"  from  -which  the 
story  takes  its  name  was  a  tall  tree  that 
stood  in  solitary  splendor  on  a  mountain 
top.  The  fame  of  the  pine  lured  a  young 
engineer  through  Kentucky  to  catch  the 
trail,  and  when  he  finally  climbed  to  its 
shelter  he  found  not  only  the  pine  but  the 
foot-prints  of  a  girl.  And  the  girl  proved 
to  be  lovely,  piquant,  and  the  trail  of 
these  girlish  foot-prints  led  the  young 
engineer  a  madder  chase  than  "the  trail 
of  the  lonesome  pine." 

THE  LITTLE  SHEPHERD  OF  KINGDOM  COME 
Illustrated  by  F.  C.  Yohn. 

This  is  a  story  of  Kentucky,  in  a  settlement  known  as  "King- 
dom Come."  It  is  a  life  rude,  semi-barbarous;  but  natural 
and  honest,  from  which  often  springs  the  flower  of  civilization. 

"  Chad."  the  "little  shepherd"  did  not  know  who  he  was  nor 
whence  he  came — he  had  just  wandered  from  door  to  door  since 
early  childhood,  seeking  shelter  with  kindly  mountaineers  who 
gladly  fathered  and  mothered  this  waif  about  whom  there  was 
such  a  mystery — a  charming  waif,  by  the  way,  who  could  play 
the  banjo  better  that  anyone  else  in  the  mountains. 

A  KNIGHT  OF  THE    CUMBERLAND./ 
Illustrated   by  F.  C.  Yohn. 

The  scenes  are  laid  along  the  waters  of  the  Cumberland* 
the  lair  of  moonshiner  and  f  eudsman.  The  knight  is  a  moon- 
shiner's son,  and  the  heroine  a  beautiful  girl  perversely  chris- 
tened "The  Blight."  Two  impetuous  young  Southerners'  fall 
under  the  spell  of  "The  Blight's  "  charms  and  she  learns  what 
a  large  part  jealousy  and  pistols  have  in  the  love  making  of  the 
mountaineers. 

Included  in  this  volume  is  "  Hell  fer-Sartain"  and  other 
stories,  some  of  Mr.  Fox's  most  entertaining  Cumberland  valley 
narratives. 

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CHARMING  BOOKS  FOR  GIRLS 

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WHEN  PATTY  WENT  TO  COLLEGE,    By  Jean  Webster. 
Illustrated  by  C.  D.  Williams. 

One  of  the  best  stories  of  life  in  a.  girl's  college  that  has  ever  been 
written.  It  is  bright,  •whimsical  and  entertaining,  lifelike,  laughable 
and  thoroughly  human. 

JUST    PATTY,    By  Jean  Webster. 

Illustrated  by  C.  M.  Relyea, 

Patty  is  fall  cf  the  joy  of  living:,  fun-loving,  given  to  ingenious 
mischief  for  its  own  sake,  with  a  disregard  for  pretty  convention  which 
is  an  unfailing  source  of  joy  to  her  fellows. 

THE  POOR  LITTLE  RICH  GIRL,    By  Eleanor  Gates. 

With  four  full  page  illustrations. 

This  story  relates  the  experience  of  one  of  those  unfortunate  chil- 
dren whose  early  days  are  passed  in  the  companionship  of  a  governess, 
seldom  seeing  either  parent,  and  famishing  for  natural  love  and  tender- 
ness. A  charming  play  as  dramatized  by  the  author. 

REBECCA  OF  SUNNYBROOK    FARM,       By  Kate  Douglas 
Wiggin. 

One  of  the  most  beautiful  studies  of  childhood — Rebecca's  artistic, 
unusual  and  quaintly  charming  qualities  stand  out  midst  a  circle  of 
austere  New  Englanders.  The  stage  version  is  making  a  phenominal 
dramatic  record. 

NEW  CHRONICLES  OF  REBECCA,   By  Kate  Douglas  Wiggin. 
Illustrated  by  F.  C.  Yohn. 

Additional  episodes  in  the  girlhood  of  this  delightful  heroine  that 
carry  Rebecca  through  various  stages  to  her  eighteenth  birthday. 

REBECCA  MARY,    By  Annie  Hamilton  DonnelL 
Illustrated  by  Elizabeth  Shippen  Green. 

This  author  possesses  the  rare  gift  cf  portraying  all  the  grotesque 
little  joys  and  sorrows  and  scruples  of  this  very  small  girl  with  a  pa- 
thos that  is  peculiarly  genuine  and  appealing. 

EMMY  LOU;    Her  Book  and  Heart,    By  George  Madden  Martin 
Illustrated  by  Charles  Louis  Ilinton. 

Emmy  Lou  is  irresistibly  lovable,  because  she  is  so  absolutely  real 
She  is  j  ust  a  bewitchingiy  innocent,  hugable  little  maid.  The  book  a 
wonderfully  human. 

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LAVENDER  AND  OLD  LACE. 

A  channing  story  of  a  quaint  corner  of 
New  England  where  bygone  romance  finds  a 
modern  parallel.  The  story  centers  round 
the  coming  of  love  to  the  young  people  on 
the  staff  of  a  newspaper— and  it  is  one  of  the 
prettiest,  sweetest  and  quaintest  of  old  fash- 
ioned love  stories,  *  *  *  a  rare  book,  ex- 
quisite in  spirit  and  conception,  full  of 
delicate  fancy,  of  tenderness,  of  delightful 
humor  and  spontaniety. 


A  SPINNER  IN  THE  SUN. 

Miss  Myrtle  Reed  may  always  be  depended  upon  to  write  a  story 
in  which  poetry,  charm,  tenderness  and  humor  are  combined  into  a 
clever  and  entertaining  book.  Her  characters  are  delightful  and  she 
always  displays  a  quaint  humor  of  expression  and  a  quiet  feeling  of 
pathos  which  give  a  touch  of  active  realism  to  all  her  writings.  In 
"A  Spinner  in  the  Sun"  she  tells  an  old-fashioned  love  story,  of  a 
veiled  lady  who  lives  in  solitude  and  whose  features  her  neighbors 
have  never  seen.  There  is  a  mystery  at  the  heart  of  the  book  that 
throws  over  it  the  glamour  of  romance. 

THE   MASTER'S    VIOLIN, 

A  love  story  in  a  musical  atmosphere.  A  picturesque,  old  Ger- 
man virtuoso  is  the  reverent  possessor  of  a  genuine  "Cremona."  He 
consents  to  take  for  his  pupil  a  handsome  youth  who  proves  to  have 
an  aptitude  for  technique,  but  not  the  soul  of  an  artist.  The  youth 
has  led  the  happy,  careless  life  of  a  modem,  well-to-do  young  Amer- 
ican and  he  cannot,  with  his  meagre  past,  express  the  love,  the  passion 
and  the  tragedies  of  life  and  all  its  happy  phases  as  can  the  master 
who  has  lived  life  in  all  its  fulness.  But  a  girl  comes  into  his  life — a 
beautiful  bit  of  human  driftwood  that  his  aunt  had  taken  into  her 
heart  and  home,  and  through  his  passionate  love  for  her,  he  learns 
the  lessons  that  life  has  to  give— and  his  soul  awakes. 

Founded  on  a  fact  that  all  artists  realize. 

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B.  M.  Bower's  Novels 

Thrilling  Western  Romances 

Large  12  mos.  Handsomely  bound  in  cloth.     Illustrated 

CHIP,  OF  THE  FLYING  U 

A  breezy  wholesome  tale,  wherein  the  love  affairs  of  Chip  and 
Delia  Whitman  are  charmingly  and  humorously  told.  Chip's 
jealousy  of  Dr.  Cecil  Grantham,  who  turns  out  to  be  a  big.  blue 
eyed  young  woman  is  very  amusing.  A  clever,  realistic  story  of 
the  American  Cow-puncher. 

THE  HAPPY  FAMILY 

A  lively  and  amusing  story,  dealing  with  the  adventures  of 
eighteen  jovial,  big  hearted  Montana  cowboys.  Foremost  amongst 
them,  we  find  Ananias  Green,  known  as  Andy,  whose  imaginative 
powers  cause  many  lively  and  exciting  adventures. 

HER  PRAIRIE  KNIGHT 

A  realistic  story  of  the  plains,  describing  a  gay  parry  of  Eas- 
terners who  exchange  a  cottage  at  Newport  for  the  rough  homeli- 
ness of  a  Montana  ranch-house.  The  merry-hearted  cowboys,  the 
fascinating  Beatrice,  and  the  effusive  Sir  Redmond,  become  living, 
breathing  personalities. 
THE  RANGE  DWELLERS 

__  Here  are  everyday,  genuine  cowboys,  just  as  they  really  exist, 
spirited  action,  %  range  feud  between  two  families,  and  a  Romeo 
and  Juliet  courtship  make  this  a  bright,  jolly,  ^entertaining  story, 
without  a  dull  page. 
THE   LURE  OF  DIM  TRAILS 

A  vivid  portrayal  of  the  experience  of  an  Eastern  author, 
among  the  cowboys  of  the  West,  in  search  of  "local  color"  for  a 
new  novel.  "Bud' '  Thurston  learns  many  a  lesson  while  following 
"the  lure  of  the  dim  trails"  but  the  hardest,  and  probably  the  most 
•welcome,  is  that  of  love.  ^ 

THE  LONESOME  TRAIL 

"Weary"  Davidson  leaves  the  ranch  for  Portland,  where  con- 
ventional city  life  palls  on  him.  A  little  branch  of  sage  brush, 
pungent  with  the  atmosphere  of  the  prairie,  and  the  recollection  of 
a  pair  of  large  brown  eyes  soon  compel  his  return.  A  wholesome 
love  story,  .  j  -#f 

THE  LONG  SHADOW 

1 . — . — —  **.„ 

A  vigorous  Western  story,  sparkling  wifhy.  the  free,  outdoor, 
life  of  a  mountain  ranch.  Its  scenes  shift  rapidly  and  its  actors  play 
the  game  of  life  fearlessly  and  like  men.  It  is  a  fine  love  story  from 
start  to  finish. 

•  '» 

Ask  for  a  complete  dee  list  of  G.  &  D.  Popular  Copyrighted  Fiction. 

GROSSET  &  DUNLAP,  526  WEST  26-ra  ST.,  NEW  YORK 


1  HE  NOVELS  OF 

STEWART    EDWARD  WHITE 

THE  RULES  OF  THE  GAME.  Illustrated  by  Lajaren  A.  Killer 

The  romance  of  theson  of  "The  Riverman."  The  young  college 
tierc  goes  into  the  lumber  camp,  is  antagonized  by  "graft"  and  comes 
:nto  the  romance  of  his  life. 
ARIZONA  NIGHTS.  Illus.  and  cover  inlay  by  N.  C.  Wyeth. 

A  series  of  spirited  tales  emphasizing  some  phases  of  the  life 
of  the  ranch,  plains  and  desert.    A  masterpiece. 
THE  BLAZED   TRAIL.  With  illustiations  by  Thomas  Fogarty. 

A  wholesome  story  with  gleams  of  humor,  telling  of  a  young 
man  who  blazed  his  way  to  fortune  through  the  heart  of  the  Mich- 
igan pines. 
THE  CLAIM  JUMPERS.    A  Romance. 

The  tenderfoot  manager  of  a  mine  in  a  lonesome  gulch  of  the 
Black  Hills  has  a  hard  time  of  it,  but  "wins  out"  in  more  ways  than 
one. 
CONJUROR'S     HOUSE.    Illustrated  Theatrical  Edition. 

Dramatized  under  the     title   of  "The    Call  of    the    North." 

"Conjuror's  House  is  a  Hudson  Bay  trading  post  where  the 
head  factor  is  the  absolute  lord.    A  young  fellow  risked  his  life  and 
•won  a  bride  on  this  forbidden  land. 
THE  MAGIC  FOREST.    A  Modern  Fairy  Tale.    Illustrated. 

The  sympathetic  way  in  which  the  children  of  the  wild  and 
tncir  life  is  treated  could  only  belong  to  one  who  is  in  love  with  the 
forest  and  open  air.    Based  on  fact 
THE  RIVERMAN.    Illus.  by  N.  C.  Wyeth  and  C.  Underwood. 

The  story  of  a  man's  fight  against  a  river  and  of  a  struggle 
between  honesty  and  grit  on  the  one  sidep  and  dishonesty  and, 
shrewdness  on  the  other. 
THE  SILENT  PLACES.  Illustrations  by  Philip  R.  Goodwin. 

The  wonders  of  the  northern  forests,  the  heights  of  feminine 
oevc'ion,  and  masculine  power,  the  intelligence  of  the  Caucasian 
and  the  instinct  of  the  Indian,  are  all  finely  drawn  in  this  story. 
THE  WESTERNERS. 

A  story  of  the  Black  Hills  that  is  justly  placed  among  the 
bost  American  novels.  It  portrays  the  life  of  the  new  West  as  nc 
other  book  has  done  in  recent  years.. 

FHE    MYSTERY.  In  collaboration  with  Samuel  Hopkins  Adams 
With  illustrations  by  Will  Crawford. 

The  disappearance  of  three  successive  crews  from  the  stout 
hip  "Laughing  Lass"  in  mid-Pacific,  is  a  mystery  weird  and  inscrut- 
•v  ble.    In  the  solution,  there  is  a  story  of  the  mojt  exciting  voyage 
that  man  ever  undertook. 

GROSSET  &   DUNLAP^  526  WEST  26th  ST.,  NEW  YORK 


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